


Hang the DJ

by WaywardSpark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s04e04 Hang the DJ, Background Relationships, Bickering, Bisexual Harry Potter, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Ginny and Luna wedding, Hang the DJ inspired, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, M/M, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Online Dating, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSpark/pseuds/WaywardSpark
Summary: Harry signs up for the latest in Wizarding courting technology - Coach Matches. Each date, what they do together, and how long they spend together is all chosen for him. It just so happens that the first date chosen for him is Draco Malfoy.





	1. The First Date

“Coach, is this the right booth?”

The white disk he had been given by the company when he signed up - ‘Coach’ - spoke back, a calm, monotone feminine voice. “Yes. Your date should meet you here in approximately 4 minutes.”

“What?” Harry sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. “You said to get here at seven.”

“Yes. And your date will arrive at twenty minutes past seven.”

Harry groaned. He had been sceptical of this dating system when Ginny had first signed him on, insisting that if it worked for her, leading her to be successfully matched with Luna of all people, of course it would work for Harry, who hadn’t had a successful relationship in seven years. And apparently, at the age of thirty-two, it was utterly unacceptable to be single for any amount of time, let alone for years at a time. But now that this - Muggle computer algorithm? Spell? Both? However it worked - had most likely allocated him some primping pillow princess who insisted that being late was ‘fashionable’ and not downright rude, he was on the verge of losing hope entirely.

“And this person is meant to suit me? Like, we’re meant to be compatible?”

“The system gives you dates for designated amounts of time in order to read your preferences. Compatibility may vary. This will ensure that the final allocation is your perfect match.”

“What if I don’t like my date?” He asked, almost whined, sceptically.

“Then this will contribute to the overall analysis. Everything happens for a reason.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed again. 'Everything happens for a reason.' The same rhetoric that had been given by Hermione, Ginny, Molly Weasley, Ron, Dean and Luna at every bad break up, every time an attention seeker had spilt the events of the date to the Daily Prophet, which was becoming increasingly more of a gossip column than a newspaper by the day. Harry only hoped that he could find his ‘perfect match’ quickly, if it meant not having to listen to Robot Lady Coach sprout bullshit at every date.

Just as Harry was about to give in to his hunger and order his meal alone, the door to The Leaky Cauldron opened. Harry looked up, trying to peek past the crowds of people to catch a glimpse of his date.

“Coach, are they here?”

“I cannot confirm an identity until there has been face-to-face verification.”

“I know. But are they in the room?”

“I cannot confirm an identity - “

“Potter.”

Harry looked up from the screen and exhaled softly, the only reaction he allowed himself to display. Draco Malfoy stood across from him, staring down at him with one perfectly groomed eyebrow, the kind of disdainful look that Harry had seen so often in their childhood. Except it was saturated slightly, his sharp grey eyes softer with age now and anxious. Perhaps he was on a first date too. Perhaps it was because this is the first time they had spoken in years.

“Malfoy. Long time, no see.” He stood up, offering his hand to shake. Somewhere between Malfoy saving his life at the manor and Harry testifying at his trial fourteen years ago, they had silently agreed to act civil around each other, abandoning their rivalry.

“Indeed.” He took Harry’s hand and shook it, a brief up, down, release - careful not to linger. “I wasn’t aware you were signed up for Coach Matching as well.”

“Signed on for - " The penny dropped. Fuck. "Wait, are _you_ my date?” 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, folding his arms defensively across his chest. “Charming reaction, Potter. Unfortunately, yes, unless you’re in the wrong seat. Want me to check Coach?” Before he could answer, Malfoy pulled out his own Coach, an identical white disk the size of his palm, and spoke into it, maintaining smug eye contact with Harry the whole time. “Coach, am I in the right place?”

“Yes. This is your date. Best of luck on your date from Coach matches. Once you have finished, please remember to fill in this survey on user satisfaction - “

“Ugh, dull.” Malfoy turned the volume off on his Coach. “There you go, Potter. I’m afraid I’m here to stay.”

Harry winced, inhaled to calm himself, then replied. “That’s...fine. I’ll consider it as a learning experience. It all goes towards the final match, right?” Besides which, Harry was fairly sure if he tried to leave, Coach would electrocute him or something. There were very clear instructions on appropriate behaviour and how to ensure the most accurate result possible.

“Indeed. My Coach will learn not to match me with speccy golden boys with a hero complex.”

“And mine will know not to pair me up with snobby rich boys who make me wait half an hour for dinner.”

Malfoy scoffed, shrugging off his cost and climbing into the booth to sit opposite. Harry had to admit, that the man did have good dress sense, having chosen to wear a dark shirt, tailored to him like a second skin. He could imagine him being popular on dates. On other dates. With people other than his ex-arch nemesis. “Twenty minutes, at most. Have you ordered yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you to arrive,” Harry said pointedly.

“Yes, well, I had a last minute floo call I couldn’t ignore. Besides, it’s a good way to test someone’s character on a first date. I rarely turn up on time to dates,” Malfoy explained casually, while Harry shook his head incredulously.

“...Right. Starting to understand a little more why you’re single.” Malfoy gave a mock offended look, opening his mouth to protest, but Harry grinned and cut across him, “So did I pass your test?”

Malfoy pauses to contemplate it, then smiles and nods. “You didn’t leave, or start eating without me, so yes.”

Harry offers a smile in response. “I’m flattered.”

“As you should be. Although, we do have a limited amount of time with each other, don’t we? We should check the expiry date.”

Harry nodded, opening up the ‘expiry date’ section of the ‘info’ page on Coach. “Alright. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve heard some matches can go on for years before you’re allowed to separate.”

“Merlin, years with Potter. As though Hogwarts wasn’t bad enough. On the count of three?”

“Three, two, one.”

They tapped the screen at the same time, and instantly ‘12 hours’ appeared in white, clear writing.

“12 hours. Huh.” Harry couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. It was shorter than what he had heard was normal, barely giving them any time to get to know each other, which would be an issue if they hadn't spent the majority of their adolescence together. Still, it was better than being stuck in a monogamous relationship with Malfoy for three years.

“Well, it could be worse. Merlin knows I have had dates half that time before.”

“Had people walk out on you before?” As much as Malfoy was doing to show that he was a changed man and the family were on the right side of things now, Harry could imagine that he was not exactly popular with everyone.

“No. On the rare occasion that I do manage to find someone willing to spend an evening together, they somehow tend to stay. But I’ve had to walk out before. The last guy, for example, talked about his plans to get a death eater tattoo.”

“No,” Harry breathed, eyes wide.

“Yes. He said the ‘design was cool’ and ‘we shouldn’t let its past define it’. I walked out immediately.” Malfoy shook his head, as though the movement would clear it of its anger. “Still. I suppose there are worse people out there.”

Harry nodded silently, thinking about every bad date that he had had, every news article on his bedroom activities, every person who had turned out to be awful people after a couple of hours of conversation. And yet he couldn’t really think of any of them being worse than someone as insensitive as Malfoy’s neo-Death Eater date.

Instantly, a waiter came out with a bottle of wine and glasses for the both of them, which Harry wanted to assume was part of the Coach offer, rather than people’s attempts to give him free things for simply existing. At least no one was asking for an autograph in exchange. Malfoy poured out wine for the both of them and took a sip, humming in approval at the taste. “You know, I’m surprised you would join something as public and indiscreet as a dating service. I’d have thought it would be all over the Prophet by now.”

“Just you wait. I’m sure some match or other will tell them at some point,” Harry muttered darkly.

“Well, hopefully, I can comfort you with the fact that if it does happen, it wouldn’t be from me.” Malfoy shrugged. “We both have reputations to maintain after all.”

Harry’s lips twitched minutely. The Malfoy reputation, or what was left of it, had been salvaged the past few years by the youngest Malfoy’s efforts: hosting charity galas and balls, donating money to post-war causes, inviting Muggleborns and squibs to speak about anti-non-magical discrimination at the manor. Harry sometimes found himself reading the articles reporting on these events, out of curiosity as to how his old rival was getting on. As far as he could tell, he was doing well. “What are you saying, you’re embarrassed to be dating me?”

“Not at all. But I’m not some fame seeking, money grabbing harlot like the ones you’ve been dating.”

Harry snorted. “Harlot’s a bit harsh.”

“True, though.” Then the waiter came out with meals for the both of them. Harry frowned in confusion as he was handed a dish he hadn’t even ordered. He tried to grab the waiter’s attention as he walked away

“Hold on, sir, we haven’t - “

“Come now, Potter, can’t you appreciate a little free food?” Malfoy smiled as he took a bite of his pasta. “Part of the Potter Perks I imagine.”

“Bit presumptuous to go ahead and give us food without asking.” Cautiously, Harry took a bite of his fish, but finding it to be delicious and not contaminated with poison or a love potion, he took a second, more enthusiastic bite. “I think it’s part of the dating thing. Ginny did say something about free food. Second best part of it, she said, other than finding her match.”

“Once a Weasley, always a Weasley,” Malfoy remarked, which Harry couldn’t decide whether it was worth getting offended on the Weasleys’ behalf over. “To be fair, it would affect the results of the date if you ordered a meal which you hated or gave you bad breath or food poisoning.”

“Of course. The analysis. Never mind human autonomy and our right to choose, right?”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s good food. Here, taste it.” Malfoy offered out his fork for Harry to taste, who hesitated.

“But...that fork’s been in your mouth.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I don’t have rabies, Potter. Take it.”

Hesitantly Harry leaned forward across the table, taking the piece of pasta from the fork, as Malfoy watched him in a way that caused heat to rise to Harry’s cheeks. He swallowed the pasta and nodded. “It’s - it’s good. Yeah.”

“Good,” Malfoy echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hurry up, now. We have eleven and a half hours left and Coach needs as much data as possible before my next date.”

“What happens if we go over eleven hours?”

“I don’t know. Probably something awful. Like torture. Or being kicked out without a refund.”

Harry grinned. “So it’s your first time as well, then. What made you join up?”

Malfoy sighed. “Pansy. She loves to interfere in my love life. You?”

“Ginny and Luna. They were matched on this.”

“Yes, Luna did mention something about finding her soulmate.”

Harry stared. “Luna? Spoke to _you?_ ”

“Yes, we’ve been writing to each other since after the war.” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Got a problem with that?”

“No, no.” He said quickly. “It’s good. Luna’s great. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Didn’t think the two of you would get along.”

“She tolerates my rants when I need to vent. I listen to her talking about plants and animals only she seems to have heard of. She also gives me some supplies for my potion making from her garden. It's a mutual arrangement.”

“You make potions?”

“Mostly sleeping potions, PTSD symptom repressors, and healing potions. They've been in very high demand since the war. I have to make a living somehow, you know.” Malfoy said this with confidence, without a single sign of embarrassment, whereas the old Malfoy would probably have shuddered at the thought of, shudder, providing a service for money.

“I thought...the Malfoy family fortune - “

“We had to pay a lot of damages. Mother and I didn’t go to Azkaban, but we were made to give suitable compensation in return. I wouldn’t have it any other way if I’m honest.

“Right. Well, for the record, I’m glad you’re not in Azkaban. Otherwise, I’d probably either be stuck at home doing paperwork or here with some - what was it? Attention seeking, money grabbing harlot.”

Malfoy smiled, a proper smile unobscured by a condescending smirk, bright as the sun, and held up his wine glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Harry clinked their glasses together, a matching beam on his face. “To not being in Azkaban, and to not being on a completely terrible date.”

The conversation seemed to flow naturally from there, eased by the delicious food and wine. Harry learnt about Malfoy’s potion business, his charity work, and some of the comical catastrophes from said charity events which he was able to laugh at, after dealing with the cleanup and any initial public humiliation. Meanwhile, Harry shared stories from work - harmless perps and their creative ways of avoiding arrest, annoying co-workers, the mayhem at annual Christmas parties. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised at his ability to share this with Malfoy without hesitation, or Malfoy’s responses, laughing along and making dry sarcastic comments which made Harry chuckle.

After a while, both their Coaches beeped out a notification, telling them that they had spent too much time at dinner and it was now time for them to go up to their room upstairs. After leaving a generous tip, they made their way up the stairs to the room. It didn’t really register with Harry that they would be sharing said room, overnight, until he opened the door and found himself frozen, staring agape at the bed.

“Potter, what are you - oh.”

The room, objectively speaking, was gorgeous. But there was no subtlety about its intentions, even to a mind as inebriated as his. His eyes slowly took in the sight: white sheets on a king-sized bed, covered in red rose petals.a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the bedside table. The fireplace lit and spreading a gentle orange glow across the room. Hell, there was even a mirror fitted to the ceiling.

“Coach matches, fulfilling all your kinky needs,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Leave your kinks out of this, Potter,” Malfoy smirked, ignoring Harry’s protesting splutters.

“How are you so calm about this? We may not be hexing each other left and right anymore, but I’m not ready to share a bed with you.”

“It’s sharing a bed, not putting my cock in your arse.” Tipsy-Malfoy could also be rather crass, Harry had learnt this evening. Downright dirty minded. “Think of it like sharing the dorms at Hogwarts, but the beds are super close.”

Just as Harry had reached the doorknob, a sharp jolt of electricity went up through his arm, from where Coach was resting in his trouser pocket. He yelled out suddenly, almost jumping out of his skin with shock. “Bastard thing. Okay, I suppose I’m staying.”

“Coach did that?” Malfoy asked, barely concealing his amused smirk.

“Don’t laugh, you. Yes, she did that. Guess it isn’t allowed, then.”

“Well, while you’re having your crisis, I’m going to the bathroom. Try not to panic too much without me.” Malfoy walked away, astonishingly calm as his hips swayed away. He didn't have to be a genius, or perhaps that tipsy, to appreciate the view.

He fished out the Coach from his pocket and sat on the bed. “Coach,” he whispered, so he wouldn’t get overheard, “are we meant to - to share the bed?”

“Close proximity ensures accuracy in reading your compatibility.”

“I know, I know. But are we meant to, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Sleep together.”

“Close proximity ensures - “

“Are we meant to have sex or what?!” Harry hissed, barely containing his impatience. “Like, is that normal.”

“I cannot tell you what is statistically average among other users, as it may affect the outcome of your date, but if you feel the emotional and physical bond will help to ensure accuracy - “

“Merlin, you’re useless.” Harry turned the screen off and tossed it onto the mattress next to him out of frustration.

“That’s not very nice, Potter,” Malfoy tutted as he strode back into the room, and Harry’s face heated as he hoped he hadn’t heard his questions. “What has Coach ever done to you?”

“Electrocuted me, for one,” Harry replied. “So, we’re both stuck here. I can sleep on the floor if you want - “

“That’s hardly necessary, Potter.”

“No, seriously, I don’t mind. It’s meant to be better for your back anyway. Look.” Harry got off the bed and stubbornly lay down on the hard floor next to it. “See? Comfy.”

Malfoy shook his head, smiling softly. “You’re ridiculous. The bed’s plenty big for both of us. Besides, we don’t need to sleep now. I can think of other ways to spend the time. For example,” he crawled across to the other side of the bed, got out the champagne bottle and offered it towards Harry. “We have eight hours left. May as well make the most of it.”

Harry gratefully took the bottle. “Cheers. Any glasses?”

“I think we’re meant to drink straight out of the bottle.” Malfoy stared up at him from where he knelt on the bed, challenging. “Think you can handle that? Not having glasses?”

In response, Harry pulled the cork out of the bottle and chugged back the champagne from the bottle. “I don’t know. Can you, posh boy?” He asked with a smirk, offering back the bottle. Malfoy copied Harry, knocking back the bottle as though it was water, while Harry watched his Adam apple bob as he swallowed, the way his lips touched the rim of the bottle where his own had been moments before.

Within a couple of hours, the bottle emptied and refilled itself, and the two of them became increasingly intoxicated. They sat next to each other on the bed, passing the champagne between them, and talking, and talking, and talking. Malfoy slid further down the bed until he was lying down, smiling up at Harry, who rested his weight on his elbows, with heavy eyes, talking slurred while suppressing yawns.

"You know, I never truly thanked you properly," he murmured, "For defending me at that trial. It was nice."

''Oh - It was nothing. I just said the truth." Harry dismissed the comment casually, though he smiled to himself, pleasantly surprised that Malfoy was still grateful, even now.

"Also for rescuing me from that fire. You definitely didn't have to - I was gonna turn you in to you-know-who minutes before." "Again, it was - " "Ssh." Malfoy pressed his fingers against Harry's mouth to silence him. "Don't say it was nothing. It was not nothing. It was something... You're kind," he went on. "Everyone calls you brave. But no one calls you kind. People should know that."

Harry was truly stunned into silence, staring at Malfoy like he had grown a tail, while the other man simply lay there, as though talking about how he took his tea or something equally unremarkable. He continued, his mumbling almost completely indiscernible, "You know, this is nice. It's quite good, getting to know you, Potter."

"Yeah. Me too. I'm learning a lot. Like how you're a sleepy kind of drunk," Harry grinned, speaking softly, as though the calm and intimate atmosphere could break. It honestly did feel that fragile.

"I can be whatever kind of drunk you need me to be," Malfoy replied smoothly, eyes still closing as he spoke.

"And a flirty drunk apparently. Go to sleep, Malfoy. You'll feel better in the morning."

Draco sighed softly, shaking his head. "No. It will just be awkward in the morning, won't it?" He sighed again. "Why can't we be drunk all the time?"

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Harry indulged him, sliding down so they were at face to face level. "Is it still alright if I sleep here?"

"Sure. Just don't make a big deal out of it in the morning. You know how you tend to act up, pretend everything is so much worse than it really is."

"I don't do that."

"Yes, you do."

"Fine. I won't do that if you don't."

"Mmh. I don't mind the company." Malfoy sighed in a way Harry could only describe as melancholy. "It is exceptionally lonely, being Draco Malfoy."

"Draco, what - "

But Malfoy was already asleep, flat on his back, starfishing across the bed and leaving Harry very little room. Git, he thought to himself, unable to prevent the slight fondness which came with the thought. He budged up as close to the edge of the bed as possible, leaving them both room for a personal bubble. Even so, he couldn't help that their hands brushed slightly, given how little room Malfoy had allowed him.

After taking off his glasses, Harry looked up at the mirror on the ceiling and took in the reflected scene; how their hands brushed, and really they were fairly close together, Malfoy practically curling up beside him, a shock of blonde hair next to Harry's black hair. He lay there, way past the point of inebriated, on a date with an old rival, not even having gotten as far as kissing on his date, and he realised that this was actually the best date he had had in ages. Deciding to ignore that this was actually a sad testament to his so far unsuccessful love life, he smiled up at the image, who seemed equally happy with how tonight had turned out. Then Draco wrapped his hand around his, though unconsciously, and Harry could have laughed with the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Instead, he grinned until his cheeks ached, his heart fit to burst, as an unfamiliar contentment settled over him like dust, lulling him to sleep.

~

His contentment was ruined by morning, when Malfoy opening the curtains, allowing a ray of sharp sunlight into the room, woke Harry up, his head pounding in protest. He sat up, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table. "Malfoy? He asked groggily.

"Ah. Good. You're awake." Malfoy turned back to face Harry, arms folded, wearing his clothes from the night before magically straightened and cleaned. His face was blurry, as Harry wasn't entirely awake yet, and the splitting headache didn't help much either, but he could guess that he was smiling smugly at his hungover state. Bastard. "Get up. We have fifteen minutes to clean yesterdays' clothes and say our goodbyes. I assume you don't need me to help with your cleaning charms?"

"I'm an auror, Malfoy. I've gone for days undercover where my only form of hygiene was those damn charms. I'm sure I can manage." Harry swung his legs out of the bed and walked to the bathroom.

"Hangover potion is in the cabinet!"

"Cheers."

After a quick dose of hangover potion, brushing his teeth, and performing all the necessary charms, Harry returned into the bedroom. "How am I looking? Socially adequate?"

Malfoy tutted. "Your hair is a mess as usual, but I suppose for you that is standard. Yes, you look fine." 

"Great. Thanks."

They left the room together and made their way to outside the Leaky Cauldron. They stood an arms width apart. Malfoy spoke first.

"Thank you for being my first. It actually didn't turn out to be completely awful."

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, you too. Good luck with your future dates."

Malfoy paused, then nodded, staring at the ground. "Right. Future dates." 

There was brief silence, as Harry tried to reach for the right words to say. What more could he possibly tell Malfoy? That last night as the most interesting one he'd had in a while? That he wishes they had more than twelve hours? That maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the system pushed them together again? All sounded far too sappy, likely resulting in either getting laughed at and mocked or slapped. Thankfully, Malfoy took the lead again.

"So, Coach advises that we use the last few minutes to say our goodbyes and give summaries and feedback to one another if there's time. It's closure, in a way," he explained.

"I see. So, any feedback or criticisms, Malfoy?" 

"I always have criticisms for you, Potter, you know that," Malfoy quipped and Harry chuckled. "But honestly, I can't think of anything to say except that this has actually been one of my better dates. Sad, isn't it?"

"No, no. I was just thinking the same thing." Harry grinned. "Definitely on the good dates list."

"Imagine that. Me, on the good dates list."

"I definitely wouldn't have expected it either. But here we are."

"Yes, indeed."

The coach beeped out that they had sixty seconds left. Malfoy spoke quickly, "Thank you for not freaking out about sharing a bed with me this morning."

"It wasn't a big deal. It was kind of nice, to be honest."

Harry thought back to what Malfoy had said the night before, about being lonely, and he supposed that it must be true if Malfoy is admitting to enjoying sleeping with Harry of all people, trusting in a machine for dates to go right and to eventually meet The One. But then again, according to the same criteria, so was Harry.

"Let's meet up," he said decisively. "Not on a date, we'll probably get killed for going on a date if we're matched with someone else. But in general. We should talk. Or write. Or floo call. Whenever you want"

Malfoy smiled. "I'd like that."

The countdown continued to beep: sixteen, fifteen, fourteen...'

Harry offered his hand to shake. "See you, Malfoy."

"See you around, Potter." Malfoy took his hand, then stared at him with a calculating, anxious look, eyes searching Harry's face. Then just as Coach listed out, 'five, four, three', Malfoy leaned in and gently kissed Harry's cheek.

"Goodbye, Harry. Thanks again."

Then Malfoy let go and disapparated away, leaving Harry with an uncontrollable grin, and his cheek still tingling from where Malfoy had kissed it. He shook his head, disapparated back home, then waited for Coach to tell him about his next match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/221carnationsonthewall)


	2. Midnight Coffee

Draco barely had enough time to replay and scrutinise in detail every second of that date, or cringe at himself for allowing himself to become blackout drunk in Potter's presence, or to regret allowing himself to act so impulsively and kiss him just as he was leaving, before Coach chimed with a notification for a new date. He sighed and fished it out of his pocket, still standing in the doorway to his house.

He was told that his calendar and his match's calendar allowed for them to go on their first date the next night in a restaurant, giving him a day to get ready and pack clothes in the event of them being designated a longer period of time. It also gave him plenty of time to finally, finally, process his date with Harry Potter.

Even the idea of a 'date with Harry Potter' seemed unfathomable. Draco was scarcely able to comprehend it when he walked in and saw him sitting there, in a red shirt that suited him too much to be scorned as Gryffindor boasting, no longer the gangly teenager he had known him as at school, and in the very booth that he was told to go to. Fourteen years, 4000 wizards in Britain with a steadily rising population, and it's only now that they run into each other. He didn't have time to feel terrified or shocked or even ecstatic, as he found himself walking towards Potter, telling himself to treat this as he would any other date - not that he got many of those these days - and to make the most of it. After all, how many could brag that they had been out with the Boy Who Lived himself? Judging by the lack of reportage in the Daily Prophet, not many recently. Besides, now was as good a time as any to lift the weight of guilt permanently on his conscience that he never truly thanked Potter for defending him. 

And so that is what he did. Completely off his face and half asleep, so that Draco couldn't tell what he had imagined and what was an actual memory. Including holding hands with Harry, which he condemned as ridiculous and decided to suppress deep down as a fanciful notion. It was all in the past now, even if Potter did want to meet up again. They both had other matches now, and inevitably, someone else who will be their final match to focus on. Supposedly, their soulmate. Not that he believed in such things - people either suited each other or they didn't. There was no 'The One', no perfect partner. Just a few who might come close some day. 

Draco got dressed with trepidation, pulling on a tight shirt - he hadn't been oblivious to Potter's appreciative glances, as strange as it was to be considering each other in any light other than animosity or mutual indifference, and hopefully this time the glances could escalate into something a little more mutually pleasurable; dating was exhausting, particularly this kind where everything was pre-planned and he was made to follow orders like Coach's house-elf every day, but a semi-regular sex life could be a nice side-effect. He gelled his hair back - though not as much as he did in his first year, thank god, only a little to style it - and then he stalled for a little while he drank a small fire whiskey, trying to invoke some courage in him.

When he finally arrived, the old lie of 'urgent floo call' rolled off his tongue easily. However, the man only frowned at him, dark eyes scornful of Draco's timing while his fork stabbed at his plate of spaghetti. Draco cleared his throat and took off his coat. "You...started without me?"

"I got hungry," the man replied, scowling up at him. He was handsome, Draco had to admit, but probably not one for conversation. "You're that Malfoy bloke, aren't you?"

Draco sighed, realising he should have planned for someone recognising him sooner rather than later. 'Yes. Sorry, I'm not yet acquainted with you. And you are...?"

"Callum Finchley. And entirely uninterested in dating death eaters," he replied coldly. Draco didn't have the strength to argue with him.

"Well, I guess Coach stuck us together, no matter what our preferences. Here, let's check the expiry date now. It probably won't be too long - my last date was only 12 hours."

Callum only hummed in acknowledgement as he got out his Coach, a low, impatient noise of disgust that Draco was even speaking. They both tapped the screens at the same time and on that screen, it read - 

"A year," Draco read out loud, careful not to betray his disappointment. Callum made no such effort.

"For Christs' sake," he grumbled, slamming the screen down on the table. 

"Well... we could make the most of it. Get to know each other and add some data for Coach to process. But..." Callum glared at him. "We probably shouldn't."

Callum sneered, "Yeah, I think that's for the best," then they sat the rest of the meal in silence.

~

Harry's next match was a woman named Philippa Walsh - a pretty woman with long dark hair and a lilting Irish accent which spoke just a little too loudly for the restaurant setting.

"I've been doing this for five years now," she said cheerfully. "So I know my way around the system now: efficient ways of getting to know each other, date advice, icebreakers..."

"Other than pick axes?"

Philippa's smile faltered slightly. "Why would I talk about pickaxes? I don't do mountain climbing."

"What? No, it's a joke. You know - oh, never mind." Harry dropped the topic instantly, face heating at how soon into the date he had already embarrassed himself. Draco would get the joke, he couldn't help but think bitterly to himself. He would probably roll his eyes and call me an idiot and be generally a bit more fun than Philippa here - 

"So, anyway, I've found it's best to check the expiry date early on in the meal. That way we can plan our time better, see what we want out of this date," She said, matter-of-factly. Harry couldn't help but admire her efficiency.

"Right. Makes sense." Together they tapped on the screen, which then immediately flashed up the words 'nine months'.

"Oh. Right."

"Great! I haven't had one this long in ages!" Philippa grinned. "So far it's all been a few days. Gets a bit boring after a while. Still, this should be my last year, until I get my final match."

"Oh, good luck. Hopefully, you get your final match soon," Harry smiled back, and he somehow managed to feign the same smile as Philippa went on to describe her ideal match in great detail for the next thirty minutes.

~

The sofa, though comfortable, was far too small for Draco's long - gangly - frame. He was forced to either try to sleep with his feet hanging over the arm on the other side, or to curl up, leaving him with a bad back in the morning. Given that this was now his sleeping arrangements for the rest of the year, he couldn't decide which was worse. Besides which, Callum was snoring. Loudly. Even all the way from the bedroom across the hall.

Normally, matches were expected to share a bed. But as Callum both refused to share his bed with Draco and to risk his safety by being in a Death Eater’s home, Draco was stuck here, unable to sleep with lumps and springs and bits of feathers poking into his back.

Giving up on sleeping entirely, Draco sighed and got dressed, throwing on a jumper (an ex’s - heaven forbid Draco buy his own hoodies) over his pyjamas and putting his shoes on. Seeing as it was the middle of the night, who was there to judge him? He left his Coach on the sofa then walked quietly out of the house. Once the door was shut, he felt like he could breathe again, like an immense weight had been lifted on his shoulders. He walked away from Callum's house and out into the street, which was empty of cars at this time of night, though further out towards the city (London? He hoped it was London - he actually knew where he was going there) he could hear more sirens and cars. He walked in that direction, hoping to come across some sort of cafe or pub or anything to take his mind off how miserable the next 12 months will be.

He soon came to a Muggle establishment, a cafe with bright, garish lights and cheap looking checkered tablecloth and one teenager at the counter who looked unable to keep her eyes open. Deciding that this was better than nothing, he opened the door and approached the counter.

"One black coffee, please." The girl nodded, her eyes still not entirely awake and aware, and went about making the coffee, somehow not spilling or breaking anything in the process. He paid with the muggle money he always made sure to keep on him, in the event of being kicked out of a wizarding establishment (not a hypothetical scenario. Not in the least in the past few years) then sat down at the table to drink. 

As Draco swallowed down the coffee, forcing himself to not let the disgust visibly show on his face, the door opened.

~

As Harry woke up with a jerk, sweating and gasping for oxygen, he realised that this would be one of those nights. One where memories come flooding back in a tide, of the war and of death and injury and guilt. One where no amount of exhaustion or body heat of a person next to him or a good shag can keep the darkness at bay. It was almost a routine by now, more a cause of irritation than the fearful experience his nightmares used to be. All was well, but that didn’t mean that his mind allowed him to know that just yet. 

Next to him Philippa was sleeping soundly, but even that seemed to irritating, as each whistling inhale and exhale put Harry on edge, making him twitch irritably. On nights like these, the best thing was to stay awake and focus his mind on something, anything else. Coffee, he decided.

Once Harry regained his breath, he sat up, fumbling for his glasses and wand, then for his clothes thrown across the floor. He stood up and carefully walked across the room.

"Harry?" Philippa murmured. "Where're you going?"

"Sorry," he whispered. "Couldn't sleep. Just popping out."

"Nightmare, huh? Yeah, I get those too. Like this one night, I had a really weird one where I was in Turkey, even though I'd never been before - " Lord, even half-asleep she never stopped talking. Ignoring her, Harry walked out, shutting the door carefully behind him, and apparated into London. He found that the strange stillness of the city at night helped to calm him, somehow, despite distant sirens and yelling from nearby pubs, as he walked down familiar streets to his favourite cafe. It was quiet, open 24 hours, and never had anyone else to disturb him except the barista.

Still half asleep, it was only when he sat down that his auror instincts kicked in and he felt eyes fixed at the back of his head, making the hair on his arms stand up and his right hand twitch where it rested on his thigh, near his wand in his pocket. He slowly turned his head, feigning casualness, only to see Malfoy, who then averted his curious gaze away to the coffee table. Harry grinned and moved over to where he was sitting with his cappuccino.

"If you wanted to sit next to me, you could just ask, you know," He teased, grinning as Malfoy blushed a light shade of pink.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you would welcome the disturbance. Not everyone likes midnight conversations when they're trying to drink their coffee in peace," he replied coolly. 

"Normally, I do. But this is preferable to you staring at me all night." The flush on Malfoy's cheeks deepened, delighting Harry endlessly.

"Fine then. If you wish, I suppose you may sit here," he made a show of sighing, though from the small smile Harry could tell he was secretly pleased.

"Thanks. So what are you doing here? This doesn't really seem like your kind of thing. Also -” Harry glanced down at Draco’s outfit, the slightly too big hoodie covering his frame and the blue collar of a pyjama shirt peeking over the top. He looked younger like this, with his hair all scruffy and sticking out at angles he wouldn’t normally be seen dead with. _Cute_. The word popped into his head without his permission. “Are those pyjamas?”

Malfoy sighed. "Yes. I couldn’t be arsed to get dressed properly. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise you will regret it.” Harry suppressed a grin, pressing his lips together. “Of course not. Mums the word.” “Good. And no, it’s not my thing. I just couldn't sleep and had to get out of the house. Callum snores like a bloody...I don't know what." Malfoy, apparently, was irritable when sleep deprived. Harry shuddered to think what that must have been like to share a dorm with. "You?" 

"Yeah, same here. Pretty much." Malfoy's eyebrow raised as Harry very obviously dances around the subject, but he doesn't press on. "Anyway. how's...Callum? Is that your date's name?"

"Yes, it is. He's..." When Malfoy failed to come up with an appropriate word, instead, exhaling exhaustedly, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that he wasn't the only one with a rough deal here.

"Yeah, me too."

"What's yours like then?"

"Her name is Philippa and she has been going through the system for five years now. I mean, she's lovely, and not a... bad person. But everything she does is so formulaic. And so boring." Harry then raised the pitch of his voice and attempted to put on an Irish accent 'This will help with the data! This helps us understand our compatibility! Oh, this reminds me of my cousin - here, let me tell you a two-hour story about it.'"

"Right. And Philippa is...Russian?"

"She's Irish. That was an Irish accent."

"Terrible, Potter. I can see why you chose to be an auror instead of an actor." They shared a smile at his lighthearted teasing.

"Fair enough. What about Callum? What's so bad about him?"

"Hates my guts and refuses to talk to me," Malfoy replied matter-of-factly, in a way only people used to being despised can say, making something in Harry's chest ache for him. "He refuses to share a bed with an ex-death eater, even one who has made efforts to redeem themselves. so I'm stuck sleeping on his sofa for the next year. Or at least, until he figures out a way to find a new match."

Harry winced. "Oof. A whole year? I thought I had it bad with nine months."

"Of course you did, ungrateful bastard," Malfoy scorned, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing at the taste, making Harry chuckle. "So here we are. Two lonely losers in an empty coffee shop at one in the morning, doomed to live dull, sexless lives for the next nine-plus months."

"Here, here." They tapped coffee cups together in a sad mockery of a toast. As they both took sips of their drinks, Harry's sleep-deprived brain suddenly gave him the urge to be honest with Malfoy. "Well...when you say 'sexless'..."

"What?" Then Malfoy looked, properly looked, at Harry's bashful smile as he scratched the back of his neck, and his eyes widened. "No."

"Yeah."

"You? And Boring Philippa?"

"Yup."

"God, what was that even like? Did she talk the whole time? Was she all 'formulaic' in bed too? Ugh, I bet she was awfully vanilla."

Harry laughed. "Not that it's any of your business, but surprisingly, no, she wasn't." Well, in a way, Malfoy was right. She talked about sex the way she had done everything else that evening. _"I find it best to have intercourse with my match on the first night - we can properly get to know each other, that way, and it sort of breaks the ice a bit,"_ she had explained. Then, unnervingly, she had got out her Coach. _"Here, I'm sending you a list of all the things I consent to. You just tick next to the ones you feel comfortable doing."_ The list which appeared on Harry's screen seemed...endless. He scrolled through what felt like hundreds of activities and fetishes and kinks, half of them he hadn't even heard of before. _"Is this necessary?"_ He had asked. _"I mean, verbal consent works just as well."_

 _"Oh, I know. But doing it through Coach helps her to store the data. You know, for the final match."_ Harry couldn't tell if Philippa was tired of explaining about data and compatibility, but he was sure as hell tired of hearing it, so he swiftly clicked the ones he could recognise and felt comfortable with, put down his Coach, then kissed her. 

Malfoy waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Whatever, I don't want to know. You have fun with your boring, hetero sex."

Harry scoffed. "You were the one who asked."

"And you were the one who decided to break the illusion that we were both as miserable as each other." 

"I never said we were equally miserable. In fact, I'd say you won fair and square for saddest love life at the moment."

Malfoy beamed, pressing a hand to his sternum. "Aw, I'm flattered, Potter. Truly."

As they continued to chat, for the first time in years, Harry had never forgotten about a nightmare so quickly.

Once they finished their drinks - hours later, much to the girl behind the counter's chagrin - he offered to walk Malfoy back to Callum's place, which he accepted after some initial resistance. ("You have somewhere else to be. I can get back on my own." "It's fine. She won't miss me.")

But even Draco Malfoy needed company occasionally, and Harry was happy to provide it. When they reached Callum's house, Malfoy turned back to Harry with a small smile. "Thanks for walking me back."

"No problem. Thanks for keeping me company. I normally just stew in my own thoughts, so it was nice to have someone to talk to," he admitted.

"Maybe we should meet up more often at the cafe. I'm probably going to get no sleep for the next year, so it's possible."

Harry smiled. "I'd like that. Although, if sleeping's what you're worried about, I'm kind of used to sleeping rough on stakeouts. I find that _Mollio Cubiculum_ helps make things more comfortable."

" _Mollio Cubiculum_ ," Malfoy repeated softly. "Alright. I'll try it. But I'm holding you responsible if it fails."

Harry held his hand up and drew an x over his heart with the other. "Auror's honour. It will work, trust me."

Malfoy pursed his lips, tilting his head in consideration, before finally deciding. "Alright. I trust you." He opened the door to Callum's house. "See you, Potter."

"What happened to Harry?" He grinned. "You called me that after our last date." 

"Alright then. Goodbye, Harry." Malfoy's voice seemed softer when he said his first name, like murmuring a spell or charm rather than a jinx or a hex.

"Goodbye, Draco."

With one last smile, Draco closed the door behind him, and Harry apparated back to Philippa, his spirits lifted.

~

“Mollio Cubiculum.”

The sofa didn’t change in appearance, but once Draco lay down in it he could feel the difference, how his body sank like it was lying on a marshmallow and the harsh material felt soft under his fingertips. He had to admit to himself that occasionally Potter - _Harry_ \- had some pretty decent ideas. Not that he would ever even dream of revealing such a thing to him; his ego was big enough without Draco’s assistance, after all.

Except it wasn’t. Except Harry was one of the kindest, bravest human beings, who rescued Draco from fires and a lifetime in Azkaban and kept him company tonight of his own free will. He was funny and awkward and bashful and sarcastic and everything Draco found endearing in a person. People like Callum were commonplace. Harry was a singularity in a sea of hostility. He used to hate Harry for how easily people liked him, for all the attention he got, but now he found himself admiring him just as strongly as he used to hate him. He could have laughed at the irony of the situation. 

He wondered if he could have kissed him tonight. On the morning of their last date, he had the excuse of being hungover and manipulated by all this talk of final matches and the one and the romantic setting of their room. Now, coming back from a run-down cafe, in the middle of the night, high on a caffeine rush and, for Merlin’s sake, in a damn relationship with other people, he had no excuse for wanting to kiss him; except that Harry was annoyingly likeable, and they both had months of cohabiting with people they didn’t really like ahead of them. Loneliness was the best reason Draco could manage to allow himself. 

He sighed, pressing his forehead against the back of the sofa and curling up. There was little use thinking these things. After all, Harry’s match was reasonably harmless and he may even grow to like her. Love wasn’t much of a possibility when there was an inevitable deadline approaching, but he has heard how exes stay in touch with each other, forming a bond that can rarely get separated. But eventually, they would both find final matches, move on and live happily ever after with their most compatible match. 

After all, Draco thought as his eyes closed, the spell already working to make him fall asleep even in his confused state of mind, what were the chances of being paired up with someone twice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/221carnationsonthewall)


	3. A Wedding - part 1

Draco rarely received mail which wasn't either howlers or from his mother, so when his owl returned one day with a letter from someone new that wasn't scarlet and looked in imminent danger of exploding into a furious rant at him. 

He opened it up over breakfast, as Callum got dressed for work (at the Prophet - as if he could be any worse as a person) in his room, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was an invitation to Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood's wedding. After the war and the trials, Luna had approached him, writing to him to ask how he was, to thank him for the kindness he had shown her when she was imprisoned in the manor (it was hardly kindness to send down the house elves to give them food - merely the decent thing to do. Heaven knows he did little of that as a teenager), to ramble on about her own travel plans to search for whatever strange creatures she believed she could find out there, and to suggest that they meet. 

The final part was what had surprised him the most out of all the strange things Luna had said. Why would she want to see him of all people? The son of the family who had held her captive for so long, who had bullied her in school for her eccentric behaviour, who had let the death eaters into her school? But then again, she did have a tendency to adopt strays and runts. After waiting a few days to see if a follow-up letter admitting to a mistake and accidentally writing that they wished to meet, only to find that nothing of the sort came, Draco wrote back, saying he'd be delighted to meet her for lunch. A week after that, they met up, and the majority of the meal was spent with Luna talking pleasantly, listing off endless creatures and plants she was excited to finally see in real life in her upcoming travels, while Draco listened, relieved to not be the one talking. What did he have to talk about? She knew what he was up to. Anyone reading the Prophet knew it - his trial was one of the most eagerly read topics in years. Not that that was anything to brag about.

At the end of lunch, as they were saying goodbye and - weirdly - suggesting times to meet up again, Draco asked her what lunch was really about and why she felt the need to invite him. She simply shrugged and replied, "you seem like you could use a friend right now." Unquestioning, Draco had accepted, moved to the point of the backs of his eyes pricking with... something overwhelming and sentimental. Genuine kindness without an alternate motive wasn't something he was entirely used to yet.

Several lunches later, and now he was invited to her wedding. He grinned, slightly thrilled to be included on the guest list, and got out his quill and ink to reply back.

As he did so, Callum walked behind him, doing the cufflink of his shirt, and felt the need to look over Draco's shoulder. (He seemed to consider it his responsibility to wizarding security to butt into Draco's business - as though he would be arranging a death eater meeting through writing letters. Idiot.) "A wedding, huh? Which of your Slytherin friends are getting married, then?"

Ignoring the vicious and spiteful way the house name was spat out, like poison, Draco corrected him, "Actually, it's a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. Not that it's any of your business, seeing as you never accompany me anywhere anyway."

"I'm not interested in being eye candy at your stuffy attention-seeking balls," Callum scoffed, sliding the invitation on the table closer towards himself, and his eyes widened as he saw the names on the invitation. "No way."

"What?"

"Ginny Weasley? _The_ Ginny Weasley?:

"Is there another one?" Draco sighed impatiently.

"So you're telling me, you're invited to the wedding of The Ginny Weasley - the quidditch captain who got England through to the semi-finals for the first time in decades, invented eleven quidditch moves and three new fouls?"

"Yes. Why, do you want me to get you an autograph?"

"No. But I do want something better." Draco turned around in his chair, raised an eyebrow as he waited for Callum to explain. "I would like to go to the wedding with you, but on three conditions."

Draco resisted the urge to scoff. As though Callum was doing him some great favour by attending. Draco had been hoping for a way for them to leave this relationship behind and forget it had ever happened, but Coach insisted that unless it registered any kind of physical or emotional abuse occurring, it was impossible to leave. "Continue."

"Firstly, we do not have to sit together during the service."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough."

"Secondly, we do not dance together, or walk around together, or be together any longer than necessary."

"Fine."

"And thirdly, you introduce me to Ginny Weasley."

"I don't really know her that well. I only know her fiancée. Besides, I don't want you acting creepy and ruining their big day."

"I'm not going to act creepy. I'm just going to congratulate her, say what a huge fan I am, and maybe ask questions for my Daily Prophet article."

Draco shook his head adamantly. "No. Absolutely not. They like their privacy and do not want to be in your bloody gossip column." At least, he reasonably assumed so. 

"Well, you can't tell me what to do. It's my job, remember? You know what a job is, right? Some of us actually need those to live,' Callum sneered as Draco sighed, long used to this line of argument. He reasoned with himself that if he can't stop Callum from interrogating the new Weasley-Lovegood couple, then at least he could watch from the sidelines as Ginny punched him in the face for it. Concealing a smile at the thought, he nodded.

"Fine. Alright. We'll arrive separately, sit separately, do everything separately, until I introduce you to Ginny. Happy?"

"Yes. Very good." Then he gave a quick nod, which Draco could only assume was as close to a thank you as he would ever get.

~

Being one of Luna's and Ginny's best friends, it was only natural that he should be invited to the wedding. Hell, he was Luna's best man for Merlin's sake, invited along to their joint hen nights (Ginny had out-drunk all of them, lasting the longest without falling completely black-out drunk. Harry had had a raging hangover the next morning, but it was so worth the night before) and meant to be making a toast at the reception. It remained unwritten so far, but he figured winging it as a strategy hadn't failed him yet. 

It was also a given that the two brides to be would be expecting him to bring his girlfriend - after all, the System spewed her out, and as they adamantly insisted, the System never failed. So he asked Philippa to come as his plus one, which she had eagerly accepted, then launched into a story about her sister's wedding two years ago.

"I can't wait to meet everyone. All your friends and fa - other friends." She winced. "Sorry. Forgot." Philippa knew the basics of Harry's past and why he was so famous, though her family had moved out to America to improve her and her siblings' schooling, exchanging Hogwarts for Ilvermorny (the greatest wizarding school in the world, as she had declared.) It was one of the nice things about Philippa that because she and her family were so distanced from Britain during the war, she never really treated Harry like a celebrity. He was just another person to annoy. "Hey, maybe I should introduce you to some of my friends! They'd love to meet you, and it's been ages since I had a proper long-term boyfriend."

Harry smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. That would be great. But our expiry date is in three months - is there really much point?"

"Sure there is. My friends know this isn't gonna last forever. They won't be asking when we're going to get married or something." she laughed, and Harry didn't have much choice except to laugh with her. 

They arrived together at the wedding venue, outside in a field near the Burrow. The same marquee was set up there as with every other Weasley wedding that had occurred in the last fifteen years, except now magically expanded to accommodate all the new Weasley cousins. Molly stood at the entrance, directing everyone to their assigned seats, despite Ron's complaints next to her that it was unnecessary.

"I know, I know, dear, I just wanted to be sure. Harry!" Molly smiled brightly as she brought him into a tight hug.

"Hi, Molly. Hi, Ron. Busy this morning?"

She sighed "I've been busy for the past two months. Ginny's terrible at wedding planning. Thank goodness her fiancee has some idea of what she wants, but even then at some points, I had to put my foot down - oh, who's this?" She asked as she spotted Philippa for the first time.

"This is Philippa Walsh, my girlfriend," Harry said. "Philippa, this is Mrs Weasley, one of the brides' mothers. And this is Ron Weasley, brother of one of the brides. "

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Weasley," she grinned, shaking her hand enthusiastically, and then Ron's. "Love what you've done with the marquee and everything. The decorations are lovely."

"Oh, thank you, dear," Molly flushed with pride. "At least someone here appreciates my efforts."

"Come off it, mum," Ron sighed. "We do appreciate them."

"Just not my incessant nagging?"

"This feels like a trick question. Harry, you and your plus one will be sitting in the second row on the right. I hope you don't mind but I put Malfoy next you, considering that other than Luna, you're the only one who can tolerate him."

"Of course I don't mind. I told you, he's really not that bad." Of course, Harry had told Ron and Hermione that he was matched up with Draco the night after he got home from his date, relating to them his bizarre experience, though leaving out details of the bed-sharing, the hand-holding and the kiss at the end. "Not anymore, anyway."

Ron shot him a pitiful look. "People don't just grow out of being a blood purist. But anyway, let's sit down. I don't want an argument to break out within the first five minutes of my sisters' wedding."

Harry and Philippa took their seats while the rest of the guests crowded in. Moments later, Draco entered and was directed to sit next to Harry. He couldn't help but notice how Draco was dressed in his dress robes, emerald green and tailored to cling and to flow dramatically perfectly. Harry's mouth suddenly felt dry, having to lick his lips as he watched Draco sit down. He also noticed that his match wasn't accompanying him, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw he was alone.

"Callum couldn't come, then?" He asked, unable to resist the contempt in his voice. He and Draco had met frequently at the cafe for the past six months, the most common topic being complaints about their matches, and Harry had developed a kind of loathing of Callum in empathy to Draco's situation. They met often enough that the stories of Callum updated regularly and any discomfort and awkwardness had managed to fade away into an easy companionship, due to neither of them having a regular sleep schedule, Although, if Harry had to be completely honest with himself, sometimes his lack of sleep was more out of choice to talk to Draco than due to unresolved traumas or sharing a bed with Philippa.

"Unfortunately, he can, actually. He's just coming a bit later, so he doesn't have to be seen arriving with me."

"Prick."

"Trust me, these few minutes of alone time are all I have to get me through the day right now. He wants me to introduce him to Ginny, you know," Draco sighed.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Gush on about what a big fan he is, get her autograph, try and write an article on her for the Daily Bloody Prophet."

"He's going to get his head kicked in, poor sod."

"I know."

"Make sure I'm there when it happens, right?"

"Of course." They shared a grin between themselves, Draco's eyes bright and mischievous and as young as when they had first met. Then he broke eye contact, leaning to look over at Philippa on the other side of Harry. She hadn't been paying them any mind whatsoever, simply looking around at the bright fold banners and the flowers decorating the marquee. Draco cleared his throat. "Sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced."

Harry elbowed Philippa lightly in the ribs, making her jump with a slight giggle. "Sorry, got distracted. Hi, I'm Philippa Walsh, Harry's girlfriend." She held her hand out to shake, which Draco accepted.

"Draco Malfoy. Harry's..." He seemed to falter as he searched for the right word, until Harry cut in - 

"Friend. My friend." Draco blinked in surprise at him, a small smile forming, as Harry nodded and grinned back in confidence. What else could he consider him, after all? There wasn't another word to describe someone he hung out with at midnight in a cafe on a semi-regular basis, who he liked and trusted enough to vent at, which Draco could reciprocate. 

It was at this point that a tall man with dark hair and a dark scowl came and sat down next to Draco, doing so with a dramatic thump, slumping back in his chair with his arms folded like a toddler in a sulk.

"I know you don't want to be here, but you could at least try not to ruin the brides' wedding with your temper," Harry heard Draco hiss.

Callum whispered back, "Well, what kind of bloody wedding has a seating plan? We're not in school. Ah, Harry Potter." He reached over Draco and shook Harry's hand enthusiastically, making him visibly wince with the strength of the handshake and his general dislike of being fawned over by a stranger in public. "Quite the honour, sir. Callum Finchley."

"So you're Draco's match?"

He sighed. "Yes. You know how the system is. Sometimes you have to get a bad egg to appreciate the good ones more."

"That's not very - "

"Leave it, Harry."

Callum ignored Draco's snap and addressed Harry. "I wasn't aware you would be here."

"Yes, well, I'm good friends with both of the brides," he replied politely. 

"Even with that business between you and Ginny Weasley a few years ago?"

"Actually that was over a decade ago, and it was a very amicable breakup. Don't believe everything you read in the daily Prophet - frauds, the lot of them."

Callum's smile faltered. "I work in the Daily Prophet."

"Oh, I know." 

Harry grinned while Draco smiled back gratefully, smirking at Callum's humiliation. As Harry leaned back in his seat, satisfied, the ceremony began. The people's voices hushed as the music started and Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood walked together down the aisle. Both dads had wanted to give their daughters away, but Ginny felt that the tradition was too old-fashioned and Luna wanted to walk down with her wife-to-be anyway - what was the use in spending longer than needed separated? 

The vows were made, the rings exchanged and the marriage was sealed, then the marquee was transformed by the close friends and family of the two brides into the reception. The walls were taken away to make up more room for dancing, the chairs and tables moved, and the decorations changed, becoming now more colourful and cheerful than the traditional golds and silvers of the ceremony - most likely a compromise on Molly's half to let Ginny and Luna have some parts of the wedding their own way. As the scene was altered and some of the Weasleys went inside to fetch the food, the other guests circulated, approaching Ginny and Luna to congratulate them. 

As Harry approached them, he couldn't help but admire how well they fit together. To anyone else, they would seem polar opposites: Luna, with her long blonde hair in a plait, decorated with bright and sweet smelling flowers, and a bright yellow dress that trails behind her, and then there's Ginny, in her suit with the yellow flower at her lapel to match, fiery red hair in loose waves at her shoulders. But they stood hand in hand, grinning ecstatically from ear to ear, catching each other's eyes and blushing with pride and happiness, and Harry couldn't help but envy slightly what they had. 

He hugged them both in turn. "Congratulations, you two. Beautiful ceremony."

"It was just the same as all my brothers' weddings, you know that. But I didn't want to get in the way of Mum's process." Ginny grinned. As it was her only daughter's wedding, Molly had put in even more effort, and even more tears than her sons' weddings, meaning it was generally safer to leave her to it. (Not that Ron's or Bill's or Percy's or George's was lacking any enthusiasm. Each child was fawned and fussed over until they were squirming in embarrassment, though they were secretly thrilled at the attention.)

"Is Philippa here, Harry?" Luna asked with a smile.

"Yup, she's just over there, talking to Draco and Callum." He pointed over at them. Callum and Phillipa seemed to be getting on like a house on fire, chattering away enthusiastically while Draco stood awkwardly near them, sipping at his champagne at an alarming rate. 

"Right. How's it going? She still boring you to death?" Ginny teased. Harry had kept them updated, telling them about his date with Draco and complaining about the hundreds of times Philippa brought up a previous match she had or the many benefits of a vegan diet.

"Yes. I mean, she's great. She does know good restaurants and there aren't any awkward silences, at least. I could have it so much worse. Like, Draco and Callum hate each other. He's been sleeping on the couch for months now."

"Yikes."

Luna hummed. "I suppose, you have to take into account that Callum lost people in the war. I suppose he has his own way of coping with grief."

"He's not really coping. He's taking out his anger on someone who has already made up for his mistakes by raising funds and giving a voice to the victims of the war. Isn't that enough?"

"Not everyone sees it that way, Harry," Ginny replied calmly, wincing in sympathy for Draco's situation anyway. "Besides, how much longer could they have left?"

"Fifteen weeks. They have three months more than me and Philippa."

"Counting much?"

"Draco keeps a calendar. He buys a celebratory hot chocolate every time a month passes," Harry chuckled as he reminisced on their cafe meetups, how Draco was always in a good mood whenever it reached the month milestone, how he would adamantly deny that he was anything except far too distinguished and pretentious to have something as common as a sweet-tooth.

Ginny smirked. "I see. Well, we'd better go and sit down now. I think mum has placed you two with Draco and Callum. Trying to avoid fights breaking out, y'know."

"Got it. Good luck with the first dance, you two." Neither of them was a particularly skilled dancer, despite Ginny's grace and skill on a broom and Luna's quiet confidence and immunity to the judgemental stares of others, so he looked forward to the entertainment greatly. Ginny flipped him off as he walked away with a grin. 

~

Draco had been to many public events, but he couldn't quite remember feeling quite so out of place at any of them. He was surrounded by a sea of redheads, gathered together and chatting amicably with spouses and children next to them. Even Weasley and Granger had a daughter, a three-year-old who constantly wandered off curiously to look at the chickens or gnomes outside, until she was called back and returned dutifully to her mother. Beside Draco, Callum and Philippa were getting to know each other, with Philippa rambling on and Callum listening with a patience Draco didn't think he was even capable of. Just as he was wondering how rude it would be to walk out now, Harry's voice echoed across the room.

"Everyone! I would like to say a few words." The room politely fell silent as Harry stood up on a chair, his wand pointed at his throat and amplifying his voice. Draco was fairly sure that this was unnecessary, as he already had a commanding presence when he wanted to. The man was well on his way to becoming head auror and had the respect of pretty much the entire wizarding community. "I'm Harry, Luna's best man, and Ginny's ex." A rowdy cheer sprang from the crowd, as Ginny lifted her glass and winked. Draco couldn't help but chuckle, while Harry calmed the crowd down with a grin. "It's okay, everything's cool now. No drama here. But I have known both of them for ages now, since Hogwarts in fact, and I honestly can't think of two people more suited to each other. I didn't know this until recently, of course, because let's face it, I was basically an oblivious idiot back in school."

"You still are, mate!" Ron yelled, and Harry laughed. There was something refreshing about seeing Harry as funny and self-deprecating and relaxed in public. He had seen this side of him in the cafe, and the reassurance that it was genuinely how he behaved with people he... liked? was welcoming. 

"True. Why people think I should be Minister for Magic, I will never know. Anyway, as much of an idiot as I was, it doesn't really compare to these two idiots beside me." Harry gestured to Luna, who was smiling and shrugging, and Ginny, who was feigning shock at being insulted. "It took them several years of friendship, constantly hanging out with each other, tolerating each others' obsessive rants, acting as a shoulder to cry on, to even realise that they liked each other. Then, they both signed on to the same dating thing as a dare and for the hell of it. And who was their final match? Well, who else could it be for Ginny, except the kindest, weirdest, most supportive and fascinating person you will ever meet? Or who could it be for Luna, except the girl who stood up for her against bullies from day one, who is funny and understanding and the toughest out of everyone here, and let's face it, the best Quidditch player England has ever seen?" Luna grinned, squeezing Ginny's hand, as Harry went on. "So, seeing as the system couldn't possibly have made a mistake, you guys have signed me up too. I was... sceptical at first, as to how a machine could know about my love life better than I do. But seeing you two together as happy as you are - not just today, but every time I see you guys - has given me some hope in the system and that hopefully, one day, I'll be lucky enough to find someone - " At this, Harry's eyes which had been sweeping across the room made eye contact with Draco, green eyes staring into his and widening as though on the verge of an epiphany, and it was all Draco could do to not break away blushing. "- who makes me even half as happy as you two." Harry looked away, smiling and raising his glass, shaking them both out of their temporary trance. "To Luna and Ginny, and the perfect match."

"To Luna and Ginny!" Everyone echoed cheerfully and sipped the champagne in celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/221carnationsonthewall)


	4. A wedding - part 2

When Ginny and Luna finally leave the dance floor, having spent multiple songs wrapped in each other's arms, giggling and flushing from exertion (though as far as he could tell, they didn't do much except a bit of spinning and swaying), Draco decided that now was as good a time as any to drag Callum away from Philippa (who he was now shamelessly flirting with, biting his lower lip as his eyes wander, while she blushed and giggled, her finger circling the rim of her champagne flute) and introduce him to Ginny. She was most likely high on endorphins and oxytocin - loved up newly-weds generally were after dancing together - and it was far better to introduce her to this human equivalent of a headache when she was in a good mood than the opposite. Not to mention how increasingly invisible he was feeling without Harry's presence as a reassurance, a bright smile or a twinkle of his emerald eyes to show that Draco was valued and liked, praise to preen under when it was genuine and not sarcastic teasing, which was surprisingly becoming increasingly common each time they spoke to one another.

Speaking of headaches, the conversation between Philippa and Callum was becoming increasingly more inane and mind-numbing as the night went on, from talking about the zodiac signs to discussing the way the marquee had been decorated in increasingly insulting ways. If Philippa had once liked the way the gold streamers fell from the ceiling and the way the light hit the silver ribbons on each bit of furniture, she now thought they were tacky. Coincidentally, so did Callum.

"Yes, well, weddings nowadays are too common and too elaborate after the war," Philippa remarked. "Focusing less on the courtship beforehand detracts from the beauty of romance and increases the chance of an unsuccessful marriage

Callum sat up suddenly, brimming with excited energy. (And to think that Draco had thought that he had no emotional capacity beyond anger and indifference.) "Wait, did you read that?"

She hesitated, as though nervous to admit her opinion was from elsewhere, as were all tonight's opinions. "...Yes?"

"But - I wrote that!"

She gasped happily. "Seriously?"

"Yes! I knew people liked my stuff, but I've never had anyone quote me around me before."

"I loved that article. It really...spoke to me."

"And here we are meeting at this wedding." He stroked his finger across the back of her hand, causing her to giggle while Draco forced himself not to gag. "You know, it's such a coincidence. It's almost as though - "

"It's almost as though every wizard in Britain reads the same bloody newspaper." Draco snapped, finally getting Callum's attention. "You still want to meet Ginny Weasley?" He asked, and Callum's mood perked up considerably, or at least as much as he was capable of around Draco.

"Yes, of course, I do. Let's go. See you in a bit, Pip." Philippa smiled and nodded as Callum got up, apparently comfortable with the nickname. His hand brushed her shoulder as he passed her, which Draco didn't fail to notice or shake his head in disapproval.

"Pip? Really?" He hissed at Callum as they walked through the crowds.

"She likes the nickname. Hey, do you think it would freak Ginny out if I had my self-writing quill out as we talked?"

"Yes, definitely. She doesn't want the press interfering on her big day. But I'm getting off track - you do realise that Philippa is in a relationship? With Harry Potter, I might add?" Granted he found her boring and was treating their relationship as more of a friends-with-benefits situation - unbeknownst to Philippa - but Callum didn't need to know that.

"It's fine, it's not flirting. Just a bit of harmless banter. Now, are you sure about the quill? I mean, at least that way I'm being honest. Women generally don't like being lied to, or so I've heard."

Draco had to consider this fact - at least, if Callum was honest, he would get punched now, rather than later when the article was published and Draco wouldn't be in the room to witness it. "You know what? You're right. Get your quill out."

Immediately, he whipped out from his dress robes a notepad and quill, which he levitated beside him. As Ginny Weasley came closer, Draco couldn't help the small nervous flutter of his stomach, the worry that Ginny would take her anger out on him, or the conversation wouldn't get any further than a cold dismissal of him at best. He was long used to this behaviour, but that didn't change his base Malfoy neediness to be liked and approved of by everyone. 

"Ginny Weasley?" He said softly to get her attention. She turned around and surprisingly offered a small smile, while Luna carried on talking to her father. "I just wanted to offer my congratulations. I"m very happy for you both."

"Thank you. You know, when Luna said you two were friends I didn't think that - well, she counts everyone as her friend, really," Ginny explained in a rush. "And I'm glad it's a reciprocal thing."

"Luna has shown me more kindness than I deserve," he replied sincerely. "I'm glad she's found someone who will treat her with the respect and love she is worthy of."

"Yes, yes, this is all very touching and sentimental," Callum interrupted impatiently. He held out his hand. "Callum Finchley. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."

"What?" Ginny glared and turned to Draco for an explanation, who mouthed, "my Match" back at her apologetically, and then excused himself from the conversation to look for Harry. 

He found him soon enough on the dance floor, with Rose Weasley dancing on his feet. It was an endearing sight, with the young girl grinning up at him and giggling in delight as he looked fondly back at her, making Draco's heart flutter in his chest and warmth settle over him. And admittedly, he did look handsome. By this point, he was used to the Harry who wore jeans and joggings and sometimes even pyjamas whenever they met up, but here he was dressed up in a perfectly tailored robe, a dark purple which set off the green of his eyes. But he didn't want to waste time simply staring. He went up to him, dodging the other dancers, and murmured into his ear, "if you want to see Ginny hex Callum into next year, I suggest you come now."

Harry immediately perked up, standing up straighter and smirking back at him, before turning back to Rose. "Sorry, Rose. I'm off to talk...grown-up stuff with Draco. Why don't you go and find your dad and dance with him?"

"What kind of grown-up stuff?" Rose asked.

"Taxes," Draco chimed in, and Rose pulled a face in disgust, before running away to find Ron. 

"Cheers, Draco. Her feet were starting to hurt," Harry murmured as they walked away.

"Not at all. You seemed like you were having fun though." 

He grinned fondly. "Yeah. So, about Ginny - "

No sooner had Harry said this, gasps broke out among the crowd and a male voice yelled out a swear word, causing the youngest Weasleys to giggle. They hurried over and found Callum kneeling on the floor, his nose bleeding heavily into his hand while he cursed under his breath and Ginny glared furiously at his crumpled form. Molly shook her head calmly as she watched from the other side of the room, disappointed but not surprised.

"Damn, I missed it," Harry sighed.

"What happened?" Asked Draco.

"Bastard was asking me too many questions."

"I told you, it would get you good publicity!"

"And I told you I didn't want to be disturbed. I'm sure you can check your notepad if you need a reference," Ginny replied, voice cold with anger in a way which made Draco incredibly grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end of her anger, for now.

"Bloody bitch. You didn't need to break my nose because of it!"

"Cal?" Philippa came rushing over and knelt beside Callum, her face pale with worry for him. "Cal, are you okay?"

"What do you think?" He snapped, but this didn't deter Philippa, who tutted as she looked over him, stroking back his hair.

"Oh, you're hurt. Here, I have training in basic healing. Let's go find a bathroom, sweetie." Draco turned to Harry and mouthed 'sweetie?' incredulously but he shook his head in response, definitely not surprised by the turn of events

"Thanks, Pip. You're a saint." He smiled, then winced as the movement affected his broken nose. Philippa gently got him off the floor and walked him into the house, smothering him with sympathy as they went. 

"They... do realise that they both came here with dates, right?" Harry stared as though stunned as they walked away. Draco pulled on his sleeve lightly to distract him.

"Leave them. They seem fairly happy with one another."

"He's an arsehole, though. Philippa must realise that."

"Love is blind, and weddings make everyone desperate and romantic. I'll give it 12 hours before she feels guilty and refuses to speak with him again. And runs back crying to you."

"Do you think they'll...?"

"Well, let's just say - if they come home with us, I'll be shocked," 

"Whatever. Let's not think about that creep anymore," Ginny muttered, rubbing the knuckles of her still clenched fist. "I'm off to find my wife. I'd rather not be in a bad mood for the rest of the evening." 

Taking Ginny storming off as a sign that the fiasco was over, people turned away, averting their gaze guiltily from where they had watched in awe and returning to the dance floor or buffet meal they were previously focused on. As they did so, Harry murmured close to Draco's ear, with an audible smirk:

"So was that worth it? Bringing Callum here?"

Draco didn't hesitate to reply, an equally mischievous grin on his lips, "absolutely."

~

Harry went back to dance with Rose then some of the other young ones present at the wedding. A few years ago, it would have been Teddy dancing with him, at first on his toes and then making fun of him as he tried to copy his dancing. ("I can't, Teddy, I'm not as talented as you," Harry would feign a sigh as Teddy's hair would turn pink with amusement.) Now, with Teddy at Hogwarts for most of the year, he had Ron's siblings' children. He didn't mind in the least: there was something entertaining about kids' company, how they were prone to saying anything brutally honest without care for consequences, how they were never self-conscious about anything and were unabashedly affectionate. The more narcissistic side of him liked how kids could admire him for no reason other than him being Uncle Harry, who gave them toy quaffles for Christmas and made them laugh and let them try on his glasses, despite them being far too big for them. He wasn't the saviour of the wizarding world, or the golden boy, or the Daily Prophet's source of entertainment to them. Just Harry. 

Draco, on the other hand, didn't seem in as sociable a mood. He stayed at the table, ready for conversation whenever Harry needed a break for refreshments and conversations with someone above the age of 9, concealing a small smile as he watched, but never getting up to join in. He could have anyone he asked here to dance with, Harry thought. Anyone who took his fancy, whether that be a man or a woman (though he had a suspicion that Draco leant far more towards his own sex than the other.) But then again, the people who knew him didn't really like him that much - they tolerated him at best - and an even smaller minority of people who didn't know him would actually be his type. 'It is exceptionally lonely being Draco Malfoy," he had said on their first date (delirious and unfiltered). The more time Harry spent with him, the more he realised how true this was.

Partly out of ~~pity~~ (No, not pity, Draco would never forgive him for pitying him), mostly out of exhaustion, Harry sat back down next to him, downing the rest of his drink greedily.

"Thirsty work, being a performing monkey-slash-babysitter," Draco remarked dryly as he watched him.

"Shut up," he replied lightly. "I actually enjoy it, you know. I'm sure you would do if you actually bothered to get off your arse tonight."

"Why would I do that when I'm perfectly content sitting here?" His tone is light, a smile stretching his lips and crinkling his eyes. Harry doesn't buy it for a minute, but he doesn't question him or break the exchange of teasing quips.

"Health reasons?"

"I'm healthy enough, thank you very much."

"I've seen you consume five hot chocolates in a row before. With marshmallows and whipped cream."

"And yet here I am, in the prime of my life and the epitome of health. Also, that was a special occasion."

"You complained about a stomach ache afterwards and I had to walk you home."

"You always walk me home anyway."

"But that time I did it with more care."

"I don't remember you caring that much when you made fun of me."

"Did I?"

"You called me a 'delicate little princess who doesn't know his limits'."

"Oh. Well, I stand by that." 

Draco narrowed his eyes in annoyance at Harry, who simply beamed back, the epitome of innocence - or at least, what he hoped he was conveying. It must have worked, though, as Draco's features eventually softened, and he looked away, turning back to people watching. By now, many of the families with young children had gone home, leaving behind a minority of guests still dancing with each other. They sat in silence until a question which had been preying on Harry's mind for years popped back into his head.

"You know, before the yule ball, we had to get dance lessons from McGonagall."

Draco chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. One of my fondest memories of Hogwarts, to be honest. Ron and McGonagall made a fetching couple, when he got the nerves up to actually hold her as they were dancing."

"Oh, I can imagine. Though you should have known better than to reveal this to a Slytherin - imagine what blackmail I am capable of with that fact."

"But I was wondering," Harry continued, ignoring Draco's gleeful comments, "that if we had to get lessons from our head of house, did you - "

Draco's eyes widened as he shuddered, shaking his head adamantly. "No. Absolutely not."

"You sure?" Harry teased

"The majority of us were purebloods, and already trained how to dance. Lessons would have been a waste of time," he explained hurriedly

"Bullshit. Even Crabbe and Goyle?"

"...Okay, maybe not them, they were hopeless cases. But everyone else, yes."

He'd sooner believe that Draco did drag in his spare time than that he was telling the truth at that moment, most likely too traumatised by the memory to relive it. He grinned. "Okay. So, if you're so good at dancing, why aren't you up there, showing everyone up?"

"There's no partner here worth my time," he replied smoothly. "Only the most elegant, most poised, most talented partners would do for a Malfoy - "

In a spur of the moment decision, a thought came into his head unbidden but stubbornly refused to leave, like when he had taken Felix Felicis and did everything by the bidding of the potion without hesitation. Harry asked before he could stop himself, "Not even me?" 

Draco spluttered, choking on his drink as he turned red. (Adorable. Even if Draco would hate being associated with that adjective.) "That's - that's beside the point. No, of course not. Are you poised and talented, Harry? I think not."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Anyone who saw you at the Yule ball in fourth year would say that you're not," Draco scoffed. "It was humiliating to watch."

"Okay, well, maybe I've improved since I was fourteen years old. People change, Draco. You of all people should know that."

"Don't try to guilt-trip me into dancing with you. And I'm sorry, but your dancing is beyond all hope of redemption."

"You won't know unless you try." Harry grinned, waggling his eyebrows making Draco roll his eyes. "Come on. You don't want people to think you're a coward, do you?"

"Unlike you simple Gryffindors, I don't feel the need to prove myself to people. That threat doesn't work on me."

"Maybe not, but any Slytherin would be concerned about their reputation." Harry lowered his voice teasingly. "About showing off to people, letting them know just how much better you are than them." 

"That was the old Draco Malfoy, who was a narcissistic, spoilt little twat. Like you said, people change."

"And there isn't a tiny little part of you who is still a bit narcissistic?" Harry's eyes looked Draco up and down pointedly at his expensive robes, undoubtedly bought to flatter and attract attention.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. So, then." Harry stood up and offered out his hand. "Care for this dance?"

He sighed and stood up. "Fine. But I'm leading."

"Of course."

"And we don't speak of this again."

"Understood."

Draco took his hand and led him to a space on the dance floor, suitably placed between couples towards the back so the view of them was blocked. If he was embarrassed, he didn't otherwise show it. Instead, he held his head high, walking as he normally did with a sense of pride, his hips sashaying slightly (Merlin, what a fantastic view that was) and determined. When they stopped, he placed his hand on Harry's waist, firm enough for the heat to bleed through his robes but gentle enough that Harry's breath hitched in his throat out of surprise. In response, Harry placed a tentative hand on Draco's shoulder, which he kept there when Draco didn't make any snarky or disapproving comments. Their other hands interlinked, slotting together perfectly. 

"Now what?" he asked, somewhat hoarsely.

"Now you step backwards with your right foot."

"Okay - "

"No, idiot - my right!"

Harry groaned in frustration as he corrected himself. "Why couldn't you have just said left?"

"I assumed you had remotely enough brain cells in that thick skull of yours to make the correct assumption. Apparently not. Now step left. My left, that is, your right. Then move your left foot to meet the other one."

"Seems complicated."

"It's a simple box step. A six-year-old can do this. Now step forwards. Mirror what I do."

For a couple of beats, it worked, and then Harry tripped, somehow managing to step on his own foot, and out of instinct the hand on his waist tightened, pressing him flush against Draco, chest to chest, practically nose to nose.

"You're a clumsy idiot," Draco breathed, sounding awfully high-and-mighty for someone flushing bright red, as unable to breathe as Harry was.

"Well, why don't we forego the stepping. And just sway a little."

"You can't expect me to just sway. That's like expecting a potions expert to just make tea."

"Come on. Indulge me a bit, yeah?" Harry led a gentle swaying, Draco reluctantly following. "There. See? You're still a natural."

Draco simply hummed, but Harry could see the way he preened under his praise, unable to fight off the corner of his lips lifting into a smile. They swayed together in sync for a few bars of the song, not daring to break eye contact unless the strangely calming atmosphere shattered, and whatever was preventing them from feeling self-conscious, disappeared and left them vulnerable. 

Harry noticed how Draco's grey eyes actually had a bit of blue in them, calming and steady as a lake in that moment.

How had a mole on the side of his neck, like a target.

How his lips are shiny from him nervously licking them, and utterly kissable.

How Harry was completely, totally, unsurprisingly fucked.

"Why did you ask me to dance, Harry?" Draco asked quietly, barely above a whisper.

Harry shrugged. "Call it gut instinct. It hasn't failed me so far, in my life. Why did you say yes?"

Draco paused, pressing his lips together in thought. "The same reason, I suppose. If I didn't indulge a little in some Gryffindor gut-instinct actions, I wouldn't get anything done."

Harry smiled. "Neither would I."

_I can smell his cologne from here._

"You wouldn't be anything without your stupid impulsiveness. Just a block of wood with no personality."

"That's not true. I'd also be - " Harry span them around, making Draco giggle with surprise - "An excellent slow dancer."

"Mmh. Keep telling yourself that," Draco grinned, and Harry suddenly felt dizzy with it. He must have noticed the change on his face, as Draco then asked, full of concern, "You alright, Harry?"

"Huh? Yeah, fine. Just - Gryffindor gut-instinct. Sometimes comes up unexpectedly. Usually best to ignore, in these situations."

"Why, what is it saying?"

The swaying and spinning paused, but Harry's heart was still accelerating as though he had run a marathon. "I'll be honest here, Draco. The tiny lion sitting on my shoulder that all Gryffindors must have by law is telling me I should kiss you." He hoped, in vain, that the humour would distract from his nerves and the actual main topic of the sentence. 

"Oh," Draco said quietly. "Well, the little snake on my shoulder is telling me that I should honour my agreement to a monogamous relationship, even if my partner did not, and that your reputation would be soiled if I were so foolish as to give in."

Harry swallowed down his disappointment and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "Right. Got it."

"But the even smaller lion on my other shoulder, on the other hand..."

He looked up, eyes wide as a glimmer of hope flickered in his chest. "What?"

In lieu of a reply, Draco's hand moved from Harry's hand onto the back of his head, and he sealed their lips together, slow and soft and gentle, and Harry was consumed by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write slow burns I want them to get together too much
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. Problems and solutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments!

Harry, being a public figure, was used to the press exploiting his love life at any chance they could get, and seeing as Draco hadn't felt exactly comfortable for the entire evening being in such a large crowd of people, the logical answer was to find somewhere much more private so they could continue in peace, without the fear of being observed.

 _Logic_ , Harry would scoff later as he replayed the events of that night in his head. As though any decision made that night was made with _logic._

It couldn't be helped - it was almost impossible to think with Draco's legs wrapped around his waist while he was sat on the sink, his fingers threaded through Harry's hair and each tug sending a spark of heat down his spine. The kisses had started slow and tender - he really did have honest intentions when he suggested finding somewhere private. But somewhere along the way, they became heated and desperate, throwing all caution to the wind, unanimously deciding, _screw it, if it's happening, then it's happening now._ He couldn't remember the last time that he had felt like this from just a bit of kissing, like his blood was on fire and he was helpless but to let it consume him. But what a glorious way to go, he thought to himself, as Draco kissed him with an intensity which made him feel weak at the knees.

"Wanted to do this for so long," Harry murmured between kisses, unable to stop himself from rambling. He didn't get a response, but he assumed that the way Draco moaned and pressed him closer towards him was his way of telling him to stop talking. But Harry was nothing if not petty when it came to Draco so he added cheekily, "You're right. I'll stop talking. Make the most of this while I can," before crashing their mouths together again. 

Soon, Draco's voice broke through the haze of Harry's sensory overload, quiet and hoarse and utterly wrecked, Harry's name whispered like a prayer. He decided then and there that he would give anything to hear him say his name like that again. He broke away from Draco's mouth and moved his attention to the column of porcelain skin of his neck, the mole on the side as his target. Outside, music was still playing, but they barely heard it over the deafening sounds of their heavy breaths, Draco's whimpers in the back of his throat when Harry mouthed a line of kisses at his throat. "Harry - we should talk."

"You want to talk now?" Harry grinned cheekily, utterly high on endorphins. "Why do that, when there are so many more interesting things I could do with my mouth?" 

"Harry, please," Harry pulled away. Draco's face - flushed, dark-eyed, his normally immaculate hair a mess from Harry's fingers - was full of anxiety. "Don't distract me. I need to know - where are we going to go with this?"

"Well, I thought we might kiss for a little while, maybe go home and see where it goes from there, but... from your face, I'm guessing that's not the correct answer."

"No. As good as that sounds, that's not the answer I need right now," he huffed as he shook his head. "What I mean is, what happens afterwards? Between us?"

Harry winced. He usually did first, asked questions later, particularly difficult questions like this. "I hadn't thought about it."

"I thought so." Draco sighed, unwrapping his legs from Harry's waist. Already Harry missed the contact, felt cold with its absence. "Look, I really like you, Harry. Really, really like you. For months now. And I don't want this to just be a quick shag we never acknowledge again. But we're both in a relationship. And we've signed up for many more afterwards. Even once our relationships end, we'll have a day at most before we're flung into another relationship with someone else."

"What happened to the lion on your shoulder from earlier?"

"He's gone extinct from the alarming levels of poaching occurring in the world. Please, Harry, take this seriously."

Harry paused, exhaling to calm himself, then admitted with a small, sad smile, "I suppose you're right." He tried to keep things light and delay the inevitable. "I mean, it's a wonder our coaches haven't been electrocuting us for the last fifteen minutes as punishment." They had been surprisingly silent all day, unusually complacent when they found themselves separate from their assigned significant others. 

The thought of their Coaches instantly reminded him of how in a matter of weeks, he will be assigned someone new. Then after that, someone else. It could end up going on for years before he would finally meet his final match. Whether these people might turn out to be interesting and kind and funny, or dull and cruel, Harry found himself finding the idea of being in a relationship with anyone else except Draco very unappealing. "Oh."

"Your brain has finally caught up, has it?" Draco chuckled "Remember what we signed up for finally?" 

There was a pause as they got their breath back and a chill settled over the room. Outside, there was cheering. The bouquet toss, probably.

"So what happens if we stop now?" Harry asked. "We don't talk about it again, we act as normal, meet other people, get other final matches, and we just hope all this...fades away?"

"If it's too optimistic to hope that we get to be paired up again, then yes," Draco replied calmly, avoiding eye contact and staring at the floor. "We both signed up to this bloody system, albeit unwillingly. We know what we're getting, in the end. This is probably...a passing infatuation."

"Passing infatuation?" Harry repeated.

"We've been stuck in relationships with people we barely even like. Our change in our association from indifference to friendship meant we were suddenly a lot closer. And then there's the wedding, and that whole romantic atmosphere. Then our partners leave us, probably to do what we're doing now. It's not our fault, it's just that certain events have led to - " Draco gestured between the two of them - "this."

Harry's heart sank, his stomach twisting with hurt. Did Draco truly believe that? "Right. So the big plan is to just wait until we each find someone better?"

"Don't say it like that, it sounds so insensitive," Draco sighed. "But yes."

"What if we do get matched up again?"

"Come on, Harry. Be realistic." Draco gave Harry a withered, defeated look, his shoulders slumped as though burdened. "The universe is a cruel and vexing place and, in my experience, never works out ideally. Or at least, not in the way you originally hoped. But this," Draco pulled a face as he reluctantly continued, "might work out for the better."

"What if it doesn't? What if all our matches aren't good enough? I don't trust a robot to make my decisions for me. I really like you, Draco. I _want_ you. That should be enough, right?"

He winced. "Do you honestly think we could work? That you would rather have me than the person who is ultimately most compatible for you? You haven't even met them. They could be - perfect for you. Look at Ginny and Luna," Draco looked back at the marquee through the window. "The system matched them because they persevered, not because they dropped out on a whim."

Harry hated to admit that Draco was right. He wanted to yell at him for being so pessimistic, to kiss him and reassure him that it could work out, to grip him by the shoulders and interrogate him why the hell he started something he couldn't finish. Instead, he pressed his lips together and let cold disappointment wash over him. "So what now?"

"I think I should leave." Draco cleared his throat, straightened out the wrinkles in his robes and attempted to flatten down his hair. "You stay here and enjoy the party. Give my best to Ginny and Luna."

"What? No. You can stay. You shouldn't leave early just because you're in the middle of some emotional 'I must sacrifice my happiness for the greater good' martyr act."

"Like you can talk, Mr Wizarding Saviour," Draco quipped back. It was almost a comfort to have the two of them bickering again like before. "I may as well leave. I wasn't really having fun anyway, before...this happened." He walked over to the door and opened it.

"Will I see you again?" Harry asked hastily, trying to delay his departure.

Draco nodded back with a small smile. "I don't want to make things awkward. We'll continue as we used to. Meet at the cafe as normal, when we can. Okay?"

Harry was fairly sure he was the exact opposite of 'okay' at that moment. He forced a smile back. "Okay. I'll see you soon." 

He watched Draco leave, feeling something inside him crumble as the door slammed shut once more.

He waited for a few moments, before leaving as well, leaning against the sink as he tried to collect his thoughts. It felt too ridiculous to describe what just happened as a breakup or heartbreak. But the rejection stung, especially since they had been such good friends for months now. Despite Draco's reassurances, it was probably very unlikely to carry on as normal: for Harry to continue to make jokes and make Draco laugh knowing the exact taste of his smile against his lips; to walk together in the dark back to Draco's home with their hands brushing, when those exact hands had been in his hair and on his waist; to sit opposite each other drinking coffee with their knees just touching under the table, when those legs had been wrapped around him in an octopus grip not minutes ago. He half chuckled at the ludicrous idea he could possibly forget about tonight and move on. Or any of the previous nights which had led up to it, a delicious slow burn of soft smiles at midnight and warmth from coffee cups and the heated stares across tables. 

Jesus Christ, Harry thought with a frustrated groan. How long had this been going on for?

If it weren't for the fact that tonight was their first kiss, he would be certain that they had already been dating for months now. 

~

Despite Draco's prediction, it wasn't until midday the next day that Philippa returned to Grimmauld place, coming into the living room with dark circles under her eyes and red-rimmed eyes. Harry smiled at her in greeting from where he was sat on the sofa reading, which only caused her to burst into tears.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" Harry moved up into the corner of the sofa to let her sit down.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I know it's late, and I should have gone home with you. I made a terrible mistake last night."

"I know, it's oka - "

"It's not okay! I slept with him, Harry! He wasn't even a nice person. But I did it. One minute I was taking care of it and the next - " she burst into another round of sobs. Harry couldn't remember her ever showing this much emotion. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether to put his arm around her and pull her into a hug or to give her space. She was never particularly cuddly; he had tried it once in bed, but she had gently pushed him away. Even hand holding was a no-go, as she felt it was 'a bit weird when we're trying to sleep'. "You must hate me now."

"I don't. Trust me. I actually have something to confess - "

"Oh, god, what Coach must think of me!" Oh, there we go. Harry was a little relieved that her personality and values hadn't completely changed overnight. "It probably thinks I'm some kind of cheating... slag that detests relationships. She's gonna place me with some guy who will only want an open relationship, who won't want to get married. It's a disaster, Harry."

"It's not, trust me. The Coach knows that this is the only time, and you regret it, right? It's smarter than you think. It will probably ignore what happened last night because it's an anomaly." Harry had no idea if that was how it worked, but judging by the watery smile Philippa gave in return, it was a welcome reassurance.

"Thanks, Harry. You're a really good boyfriend, you know."

"Yeah...about that." He took a deep breath, deciding that they may as well both be honest at this point. "I haven't exactly been faithful, either. Last night, I kissed someone else."

Surprisingly, Philippa's face remained blank, free of judgement or anger or distress. Or maybe she was just an exceptionally good actor when she wanted to be. Somehow her unreadable expression made Harry more nervous as he fiddled with his fingers in his lap. "I see."

"I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry. I have no excuse. I think it will be best if we both just move on and - "

"Was it that Draco Malfoy guy?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "How did you know?"

Philippa huffed out a faint laugh. "Please. You were making googly eyes at him the entire time when you weren't dancing. And he was looking at you in the same way. Besides, you sneak out almost every other night. I know that it's not always to take a walk because of nightmares."

"I - I haven't been sleeping with him," he protested, rather pathetically. Like that made it excusable. "Only talking. Like friends."

"Were you two snogging 'like friends' as well?" She snapped, making him jump with surprise, then she sighed and bit her lower lip. "I probably shouldn't be this emotional. We only have a couple of weeks left anyway. And it's not like we were in love or anything."

"It's not an excuse, though. I know what I signed up for. Liking someone else - " he cringed slightly, all this talk of 'liking' making the conversation feel juvenile. " - doesn't mean I should act on it. Not while we're matched up."

Philippa nodded in agreement, voice impassive and uncaring. "Fine. We're both sorry. Let's just leave it at that."

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"Sure." Philippa stood up. "I'm going to go to my room, think this over." 

"Your room?"

"A room. Whichever room in this house is a guest room."

When she left and the door was shut behind her, Harry leant his head back against the back of the couch in frustration. He had somehow hoped she would be okay with it, maybe give him some advice for the confusion in his head about what the hell to do about Draco's rejection. But then again, he was an idiot to assume so. Philippa, who worshipped the system and every decision it made, would never be understanding, particularly when the guilt of her own infidelity (and Harry used that word lightly, as the word suggested that they were both genuinely committed, rather than just going on dates scheduled by Coach every weekend out of necessity and occasionally shagging afterwards: not a real relationship by any means) mixed with her anger at Harry's. 

He wondered who else he could tell. Ron didn't like Draco anyway, so his advice would be probably biased. Hermione would probably throw a self-help book at him and chastise him for interrupting her at work. Ginny gave explicit instructions at the end of the wedding, right after Draco left and Harry returned to the reception, not to bother her and Luna for the next two weeks of being newly married, not even by owl or by floo. (The embarrassed and mildly disgusted face on Ron was worth the announcement.) He realised then that the only person he really wanted to talk about Draco to, is Draco. Which was not an option, given how quickly he had left the night before to avoid any more discussion. 

With nothing else to do except try and get rid of all his excess anguish, he went into his room, got changed into a t-shirt and shorts, and went on a run, as he usually did. 

~

_Dear Luna,_

_Congratulations on your marriage. I'm sorry I wasn't there at the end of the reception. I had a great time that night._

Lies, thought Draco as he glowered at the parchment. But Luna didn't need to know that.

_I hope you two have a happy honeymoon and a lifetime of newly-wedded bliss ahead of you. Apologies if I am interrupting, but you did say that I could contact you whenever I needed to. I hope that still stands._

_Now with all the pleasantries out of the way, I have to tell you the truth. I have no one else to turn to, and with the kindness that you have shown me in the past, I know you will give me suitable advice._

_Harry and I kissed at the wedding. I don't know how else to say this except to spell it out this bluntly. Even reading it now, five days afterwards, I am still in shock. It's all I've wanted the past five months and now it has happened, I find myself unable to proceed from there._

_We both signed up for Coach Matches and got matched together for a short amount of time - far too short, in my opinion - but as a result, have been subsequently placed in relationships with other people. I suppose by all definitions, we both cheated. And that is why I don't know what to do. I told him that we have no future together except what has been preplanned by our Coaches. If we've already been matched once, we might not be able to again, and that is why I insisted that we forget it ever happened. I don't want us to just limit ourselves to stolen kisses at meetups and parties while in relationships with other people. You can understand that, surely?_

_But now, I am regretting my decision, and I have no one to blame but myself._

_I suppose I could be patient and wait for my feelings to disappear, but I fear that at my current rate, it won't be possible. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, as does the regret of missed opportunities._

_Don't worry about replying quickly. I know you will have other things on your mind than my own petty adolescent problems and that you are leaving soon for your honeymoon (South America, I believe you said?) but I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter. Your experience with this stupid bloody dating system would help. Did you ever experience this? Being matched with someone but someone else taking your interest?_

_Thank you and see you soon,_

_Draco Malfoy._

Before he could regret it and burn the entire thing in a fit of embarrassment, he placed the letter in the envelope, sealed it, and sent his owl to deliver it, hoping it would return with something that would detangle the mess of emotions in his head.

~  
Luna woke to the feeling of something falling on her head. Carefully detangling herself from her sleeping wife next to her - wife! - she picked it up to find the thing on her head to be a letter with Draco's handwriting on the envelope. She sat up and opened it, making Ginny sigh in her sleep and cuddled up closer in protest to being disturbed. Luna's heart swelled at the sight and she dropped a kiss onto her forehead, beaming.

"What'chu awake for?" Ginny slurred. "We agreed to sleep in today."

"I'm sorry. I got a letter."

"Ugh. I thought we told them explicitly not to - "

"It's from Draco. He wasn't there for the announcement. Go back to sleep," she said kindly, but Ginny - stubborn as ever - sat up to read over her shoulder, not even bothering to pull up the duvet to cover herself (and why should she? They were both very comfortable around each other, utterly unashamed and immodest. Besides, they were married now. Married!). Her hair was tangled in an adorable birds' nest at the back of her head and her eyes were still half closed.

"Let's see what he thought was so important he could interrupt us on our pre-honeymoon honeymoon phase," she grumbled. They read it together, their eyes widening as Draco recounted what had happened and what he told Harry.

"Oh, Draco," Luna breathed.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered. "They are such idiots."

"I should reply. Draco is deeply anxious, and Harry is the same, I imagine."

"They're big boys. Can't they figure it out themselves?"

"I wish I had that much faith in them, but Harry isn't the most... observant of people," Luna smiled, pulling on her dressing gown.

"Wait - can I at least get a good morning kiss before you go?" Ginny tugged on her sleeve, and Luna turned around willingly to kiss away her pout.

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley-Lovegood."

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley-Lovegood." Ginny smiled against her lips. "Now go sort out our idiot boys. And come back to bed as soon as you are done."

If Luna hadn't been motivated to write back quickly before, she certainly was now. She sat down at her desk and scribbled two identical notes, one addressed to Harry and one to Draco.

_Hope is not lost. Be patient. You have more choice in this than you think. Feel free to floo if you wish. We will answer if we can_

When she was back in bed, giggling under the weight of Ginny above her as they kissed, light and giddy, she whispered, for the dozenth time since they got together, "I'm so glad we chose each other."

"Me too, babe," Ginny replied, for the dozenth time but with the same sincerity and softness in her eyes as the first. "Me too."


	6. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! Real life happened, as it unfortunately sometimes does. Hope you enjoy!

Despite the clear invitation of the note that Luna had sent him, Draco was still reluctant to floo call her. Letters gave him a feeling of anonymity, a barrier between him and the person he was being emotionally vulnerable with - something he wasn’t quite used to yet, even with Luna. 

Besides, there was the issue of the honeymoon period probably meaning that they wanted to be left alone. How long does that period last? He had no idea. He couldn’t remember ever having one at the beginning of a relationship, as he was so often too cautious, too afraid of letting his guard down around a new person. He realised then, with a disgusted sigh, that the closest he ever had to that frantic neediness paired with complete and utter trust and freedom in the other’s presence was probably those fifteen minutes spent snogging Harry in the bathroom at the wedding. 

Deciding not to dwell on how sad his love life truly was and spur himself into action, he mustered up the courage to call Luna after a week or two, using the address she had given him a few months ago. They were bound to be abroad by now, on holiday trying to find Merlin knows what creatures in whatever hidden parts of the earth no one else seemed to bother checking. It was then, when he had already started the floo call, that he wondered if they were actually in the house, and not in some cave or forest or something. 

Luckily, after a little bit of waiting. Luna’s head popped up in the fire, her smile bright and broad and crinkling her eyes. “Hi, Draco, how have you been?”

“Good, good.” It wasn’t true, but no one ever answered ‘how are you’ honestly anyway. “How are you? How’s...Austria?” Their travel schedule was so jam-packed with travelling around the world it was hard to keep up.

Luna sighed happily. “Wonderful. We’re having such an amazing time here. We’ve already found some Gringleschnats and Effelzichs, though we haven’t been able to spot any Bilderwigs yet. And we watched a Quidditch game the other day, which was rather exciting - “

“Merlin’s beard, Luna - are you floo calling again?” Ginny’s voice echoed through the fireplace, obviously from the other side of the room. Luna turned her head to face her.

“Yes, it’s Draco.”

“Why would you spend valuable honeymoon time calling others when I could be shagging you on the kitchen table or something? Y’know, normal honeymoon things.”

Ah, so the honeymoon period wasn’t over. Draco blushed and turned to stare out of the window out of awkwardness, suddenly very fascinated in the two pigeons chasing each other outside...

“It’s just Draco. I’ll be done soon.”

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t spend as long with him as you did with Harry - ”

“Harry? Harry called?” Draco blurted out unintentionally, his attention piqued as he entirely forgot to pretend he couldn’t hear what was going on. 

There was a pause, and then Ginny sighed, more resigned than embarrassed, “Oh, god. He could hear me, couldn’t he.”

Draco’s face heated up further with his discomfort. “No. Just - just the last bit.”

“Liar.” Ginny’s face appeared alongside Luna’s in the fire, grinning. Her face had grown more freckled with all the travelling she and Luna had been doing around warmer countries. “Besides, it's your fault for deciding to floo call some newly-weds, so technically, you had this coming. Anyway, yes, he called the other day.”

“How is he?” 

“A bit shit,” she replied with a shrug. “The expiry date for Philippa came last week, and he’s been assigned a date almost every day since.”

“Oh.” Draco's heart sank. He should have told him that, shouldn't he? He had said that he would, all those months ago when they both were counting down in their heads until their day of freedom. But then again, Harry was in no way obligated to see Draco, even if Draco did miss him like a limb, his stomach nauseous with anxiety every time he happened to walk past the cafe, and yet still thrilled at the idea of running into him and talking again. 

Luna spotted Draco's reaction to hearing Harry's news, and said in sympathy, “he’s hardly enjoying it, though. He's getting a bit bored of it all now. He’s only been assigned dates that last up to two nights, so he never gets to know anyone. Also, you two haven't talked in a while, so he's fairly miserable."

“He said that?”

“No. But I could see it in his eyes. He asked after you as well. I told him you were very distressed.”

Draco winced. “Luna…”

“I know you don’t want me to tell him - or at least, I do now - but a bit of honest communication might do you both some good, you know. You’re both miserable.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. If we had tried to pursue a relationship, we would have ended up with our hearts broken, so it was best to nip it in the bud,” Draco recited the very thing he had been telling himself for the last two weeks, and it still didn’t sound any more convincing.

“Oh my god, you’re idiots.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly believe that ignoring your feelings will make them go away?”

“It hasn’t failed me so far,” he replied dryly.

“Yes, it has. Now you’re an emotionally repressed idiot who is too afraid of getting hurt to actually get what you want. Have you ever even tried asking Coach for advice?”

Draco scoffed. “I’m not about to trust a robot to give me dating advice.”

“That’s what she’s there for, smart-ass. Listen, I was miserable the entire time I was part of this damn system, and it wasn’t until later that I realised it was because I was comparing everyone to Luna because I was in love with her. So I asked Coach and she said - “

“Everything happens for a reason.” Luna finished the sentence with a small smile. “I asked Coach the same thing.”

“That’s useless advice, though.”

“No, it’s not.” Ginny insisted. “The system made me realise who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. It kept setting me up with other people who didn’t measure up to her, so I knew Luna had to be my final match. I liked her for a reason - it was part of Coach's plan, not jeopardising it.”

Draco listened with his heart thumping in his chest, certain it was too good to be true. Was he shaking? He was probably shaking, his hand tapping against his leg rapidly. Ridiculous: there was nothing to be anxious about. “Aren’t you worried about compatibility?”

Ginny scoffed. “That’s all bullshit. You can’t use statistics and star signs and whatever else to determine who your soulmate is. It’s about the person that makes you happiest. Sometimes your soulmate changes, but, I definitely know Luna is the best person for me.” She smiled as she turned to look at her wife, who grinned shyly back, eyes soft with adoration. Draco cleared his throat.

“So what do I do?”

“You just have to wait until your expiry date,” Luna advised. “Until then, you should probably talk to Harry. It will do you both good, and he’ll know what’s going on.”

“Didn’t you tell Harry this when he called?”

“We tried but he had to cut the call short for work. Or at least, that’s what he said. He probably just didn’t want the pain of talking about what happened when we tried to bring it up,” Luna remarked bluntly, making Draco’s stomach twist with guilt. It must have shown, because Luna added, “don’t worry about it, though. It’ll all get sorted.”

“I know,” Draco sighed. “But it could have been sorted so much sooner if I had made the right decision in the first place.”

~

As Harry’s seventh match left - Richard? Ralph? Whatever his name was - Harry didn’t bother saying goodbye. As soon as their Coaches chimed, he was straight out of the door, still buttoning up his shirt and leaving Harry alone in bed, in a post-coital haze but still somehow unsatisfied and empty. 

Every expiry date assigned to him since the end of his time with Philippa had been the equivalent of a one night stand, or occasionally two nights if he was lucky. He never got to connect with them, or had any hope of actually enjoying their time together. When they each found out the quick expiry date, it was like his matches were determined to use up the time to shag as quickly as possible, without so much as a ‘how are you?’ or ‘what are your favourite hobbies?’ He supposed this was part of the package deal of being Harry Potter: everyone knew these things about him anyway from biographies and the Prophet articles, and they were probably more likely to want to brag about having sex with The Chosen One than about knowing what his favourite colour was. 

He went along with it but found himself unable to concentrate or even sleep afterwards, but then again, this had been an issue for him every night since the wedding. His brain was unable to switch off, full of questions and doubts, as memories of pale blue eyes boring into his own as they danced and stolen kisses in bathrooms flooded his mind. This happened so much so that even Philippa had noticed, giving up entirely on trying to rekindle their 'relationship' before it ended, and instead, greeting him only with cold silences and insisting on staying in the guest bedroom. Harry couldn't find it in himself to be sad about this development

The night after his date - Robert? Raymond? - he gave in to his urges to do something with his insomnia and go to the cafe for the first time since the wedding. Maybe it was out of sheer desperation for some of that cafe’s coffee after going so long without it, like he told himself. Maybe a small, naive part of him hoped for a reunion with Draco. So he got dressed again, finally not having to worry about waking anyone up with the noise he made, and apparated from the house in the middle of the night.

He entered the cafe and ordered the same coffee as usual. As he waited for the half-asleep barista to finish with his order, a small, familiar voice broke the heavy, nighttime silence from behind him. “Harry?”

He whipped around and saw Draco sat at a table - _their_ table, where they always sat whenever they met up. He looked him firmly in the eyes, his head tilted up confidently in a facade of being unbothered by their encounter, but his pale face and the jogging of his knees up and down under the table showed that he was equally nervous, if not more so. Even so, it was good to see him again and Harry's breath caught in his chest at the sight of him. His clothes were as formal and well-tailored as they always were, even at this time of night.

“Hi," he breathed. "How are you doing?” 

Draco cleared his throat and nodded. "Fine. And yourself?

"Yeah. Good. Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all."

Harry took his coffee and sat down opposite Draco, his stomach fluttering with nerves and joy at finally getting to see him. What do they even say to each other after not seeing each other for so long? Draco is the one to speak first, his voice slightly accusing. “Your expiry date with Philippa came.”

Harry winced. “Yeah. Last week.”

“You didn’t tell me." Harry couldn't deny that. He averted his eyes to the table remorsefully. "You should have. We’ve both been looking forward to it for months.” They used to talk about ways they could celebrate finally being free of their matches. Harry had suggested a Quidditch game. Draco had suggested a night of drinking until they pass out. Both were perfectly adequate ideas that neither of them would have protested.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you earlier," Harry apologised sincerely. "I just haven’t had time because of all the other matches I had.” 

"And you were avoiding me."

"Yes. But, then again, so were you. I think." 

"I was," Draco admitted without hesitation. "But now I'm not, which is why I'm here."

"Ah. So you knew I was coming today?"

"No. But I've been here for the last few nights, just in case." So that explained the dark circles under his eyes, from spending almost all of last week waiting for Harry to stop avoiding their old rendezvous place.

"Bloody hell, Draco. How long were you planning on staying here for if I didn't turn up?"

"Two weeks," he answered, unabashedly. He scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Harry. The coffee here is very good. I'm not some martyr putting myself through pain to win you back."

Harry grinned. "Of course not, there's only room for one hero complex - hold on, you're trying to win me back?"

He faltered, his cheeks turning pink. "Well, I was being sarcastic, but now I think about it, I suppose it is an appropriate way of putting it."

"Really?" Harry grinned, delighted and slightly smug. Draco continued:

"I spoke with Luna and Ginny about what to do about...everything that's happened. And they gave me some advice about what to do about it. They informed me that actually," Draco took a deep breath, then his words poured out all at once, "we can choose who our matches are."

Harry blinked in shock as he took the words in. "Seriously? Why the hell have I been going on all these bloody dates, then?"

"They're not meant to tell you, and I think Luna and Ginny broke a contract of some sort by telling us, but they were too sick of our 'pining nonsense' to care." He made air quotations with his fingers, and Harry supposed the comment wasn't entirely undeserved. "The idea is that when we realise who we want to be with, we're willing to risk giving up dating anyone else for them, so we ask the Coach for advice or to quit. That's how they sort out the matches."

"So it's not about statistics and probability at all?"

"Nope."

Harry leant back in his chair, his mind spinning. "I feel a bit lied to, to be honest. By Coach, not you."

"Yes, well." Draco shrugged. "Anyway, my point of me being here is that... I wanted to ask you to pick me as your final match, and if I can pick you in return." Harry's jaw fell open. He didn't even have time to soak it in, what Draco was suggesting, before Draco continued to ramble on, "and before you say anything, I know it sounds mad, because we’ve only been on friendly terms for nine months at most, and we used to be - well, let's be honest, we hated each other. And it is a lot to ask to ask you to commit to me of all people."

”Draco, I - "

"But I really want this with you. I don't remember enjoying anyone's company more than I enjoy yours, or trusting anyone more. Even that first night, when we drank ourselves to excess, I couldn't have done that and let my guard down with anyone else. And when we danced at the wedding, and when we kissed later..." He trailed off then finished lamely, his mouth curved downwards, as though defeated and appalled at himself for the sentiment spilling out of his lips, unbidden, "There's no one else I trust more."

“Okay, I - “

“Except maybe Luna, but she’s married and I’m gay, so that wouldn’t work. I know this is unexpected, and you have all the time you need to decide what to do. I just - Ginny and Luna told me that’s how it works and I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t say anything. So there." Draco sat up straighter, his walls and cold exterior visibly being built back up again, preparing for rejection. Harry's heart clenched at the sight. "You can leave if you want.”

Harry chuckled slightly. “I’m not going to leave, Draco.”

He paused, not quite reacting. “Okay...”

“In fact, I’m staying. With you. I say yes, to what you’ve suggested.”

Draco froze. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

What a question. Harry had no idea where to start. “I - Because I trust you. Because you're funny and intelligent and, well, attractive. Because pretty much my whole life I’ve had people tell me what I need to be - become an auror, fight a war that isn’t mine, date whoever is assigned to me. I want to choose you. I think I chose you a long time ago, to be honest.”

“Oh." It seemed that despite Draco's speech - which Harry guessed had probably been practiced many times in front of the mirror - he hadn't expected that response at all. It was adorable, really, if not heartbreaking when Harry realised the low faith Draco must have in others to want to commit to him. "But, you sure you don’t want to keep looking for someone else?"

He laughed. "You seem very determined for me not to choose you for someone who just recited a speech declaring your love for me."

"It's called pragmatism, Harry. I wouldn't expect a Gryffindor such as yourself to understand," Draco immediately replied, cool above the hidden nerves. Merlin, Harry had missed this: the bickering, the cool quips, the anti-house prejudice that is only really acceptable from Draco. He smiled warmly as he listened to him continue. "And I never said 'love'. Love is a very strong word. This is a... 'like' declaration."

“Oh, a 'like' declaration? What are we, thirteen?"

"You certainly act like it sometimes. Ugh, look at us!" He said in disgust. "We can't go five minutes without fighting again. This is why you should pick someone else."

"Like who? Like Philippa, the most boring person I've ever met?" he chuckled, then reached across the table to take Draco's hand in his. This simple action seemed to comfort Draco, as his face softened and the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. "No, I don't want boring. I want the arguing. I want you. I told you that at the wedding and it still applies now. Do _you_ want to meet someone else?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Right. So that's settled." Harry grinned, feeling lighter and happier and more unburdened than he had felt in weeks. "As soon as I get home, I'll ask Coach to make you my match. And you'll do the same?"

"Actually, I still have three months left with Callum, so I have to wait until then."

Harry groaned. "That's just unfair."

"Yes. But, on the bright side, because Coach has already analysed my relationship with Callum to be unsuccessful, to say the least - which is why she doesn't electrocute me for not being in the same room as him - she doesn't care where I go. In all but name, I'm your final match." Draco held his gaze as he said slowly, emphatically, "I'm all yours." 

"Oh." Harry's stomach flipped, a gentle warmth pooling in his chest. "Well then, if I'm yours and vice versa, am I allowed to make up for out interruption at the wedding and kiss you?" His gaze dropped deliberately to Draco's lips, which he knew would make the other man blush, as he did whenever Harry was openly praising or flirting.

Draco bit his lower lip, as though deep in thought. (He wasn't. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.) "Be a gentleman and buy me coffee first, then I'll consider it."

Harry pulled an affronted face. "You have a coffee!"

"And I need one more."

"Fine." He feigned reluctance, rolling his eyes, but stood up anyway, taking Draco's cup with him and squeezing his shoulder affectionately as he passed. "For you."

~

They stayed at the cafe for hours, catching up with each other, laughing at Harry's experiences with his recent dates, talking about Luna and Ginny's marriage, complaining about Callum. When Draco finally walked Harry back to Grimmauld Place, it was 3 am, barely a car or human in sight. Other than their hushed giggles and quiet whispers as they walked home, the world was quiet and at peace, like they were the only two left on earth. They reached the doorstep, and Harry didn't hesitate to ask, or rather, blurt out, "would you like to come up?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I thought you were sick of all that after all your matches? You literally described them as 'out of body experiences' which 'made you realise how weird the whole process of putting a penis in something was.'"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up at having his words, made blunt and candid by the late hour, repeated back to him. "Yes, well, we don't necessarily have to do that if you don't want to. It could be just sleeping. Like our first date."

"Except we're now tragically sober," Draco observed, making Harry chuckle slightly. He smirked and stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Harry's chest. He could probably feel his heartbeat, which was accelerating at merely this simple touch. "No. If it's alright, I'd rather not 'just sleep'. Tonight was about us choosing what we want and right now - " his silky voice went octaves deeper, his posh intonation emphasised in a way that made Harry shiver - "I want nothing more than to see what interesting things your mouth can do, as you had promised at the wedding. Remember?"

"I do." With a grin, Harry opened the door to his house, and let Draco inside. As soon as the door was closed, they reached for each other and their lips met. This kiss was somehow far, far superior to the kiss at the wedding, all the nerves and butterflies gone and instead replaced with an assurance that they had all the time in the world now, that they both want this and there was nothing wrong with that. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and with a small jump, despite being taller, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist.

"Christ, Draco," Harry breathed as he quickly had to adjust his grip to make sure Draco wouldn't fall, pressing his forehead against Draco's.

"You're an auror. I'm sure you have the strength to carry me," Draco replied with a grin which Harry had to reflect back. 

"Is that something you like?" he murmured in a low, approving voice. "Big, strong men carrying you around to have their wicked way with you?"

"Very much so." Draco kissed him again, firmly. "Now take me to bed, Harry Potter."


	7. Letter to the Weasley-Lovegoods

_Dear Ginny and Luna,_

_I wanted to write to you to thank you for the advice you have given us. My expiry date with Callum has finally come to pass, thank Merlin, and I am now officially Harry's final match. Had it not been for you two, I would have been stuck with some other awful person for goodness knows how long right now, still pining away and in denial about my feelings. So, thanks._

_Luna, you wanted to hear as much detail as possible about how things are going, so I suppose I may as well bore you with the details. In truth, not much has changed really now that we're officially final matches. We've been going on dates for the last three months anyway, and I've practically moved into Grimmauld place, as most of my things are here now, though I only slept over nights I absolutely couldn't stand to be in the same building with Callum._ **Which is why he was here all the time. This is Harry, by the way, hi!**

_Most of the time, not all of the time. As you know, he does love to exaggerate. Nowadays we switch between staying over at the manor and Grimmauld Place. Anyway, very little has changed since last week, when we became final matches, and yet everything has. Our relationship feels more... official, in a way. Despite Callum being an absolute arsehole and us never really talking other than to insult each other, there was still the element of Harry and I sneaking around. But now we're official. Final matches._ **Boyfriends, even.** _Yes, that too._

 _I still don't quite know what will happen. It's not as though once you get into a long-term relationship it is completely smooth-sailing, with set dates of when you will move in, meet the family and friends, say I love you. It's still new and unpredictable, but a relationship with Harry was hardly going to be anything else. We have discussed moving in together, but I am reluctant to leave behind Malfoy Manor due to practical reasons, as it is so useful for all my charity work, and no one really wants to buy it anyway. Harry is equally obstinate due to sentimental reasons, as Grimmauld Place is rather important to him, being left behind to him by his godfather. But I am confident that we'll come to an arrangement soon. It turns out this 'honest communication' lark, instead of avoiding each other, is rather helpful for getting things sorted. Who would have known?_ **Ginny and Luna would have known.**

_Anyway, to sum up, I don't think I've ever been happier, and really, it's all down to you two. So thank you again._

**Thanks from me too. Because of you two, I now have a boyfriend who I can trust, who won't sell me out to the Daily Prophet, someone who is open to watching muggle films with me with only mild complaining about their predictability, and ~~a regular sex life~~**. _He also now has a boyfriend who is very capable of writing his own letters, and who will throw a paperweight at his head if he continues to hijack this letter with unnecessary details about our personal life. Harry, piss off._

_I hope that despite your return to boring England after such an exciting and adventurous honeymoon, you two are still in newly-marital bliss and that you're happy. Ginny, we'll be there at your Quidditch match next week, cheering you on. Harry has also suggested we do a double date sometime. Would you two be amenable to that idea?_

_Yours,_

_Draco_ **and Harry.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and all your kudos and comments! This was my very first Drarry fic, so it has been a little strange for me to write characters I'm not entirely used to, but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic just as much! 
> 
> My tumblr is [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/221carnationsonthewall)


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